The Silver Linings Playbook -Not the end

by Andreacherrypie

Mathew Quick's novel left me with a gaping hole in my heart, and many loose ends. In the end, I had to write this, to cope with everything. It's more a continuation of where the book left off, but there are some things I have borrowed from the movie. Whatever it is that led you here, I hope you enjoy it!

3. Chapter 3

A/N: So this is the longest chapter I have posted so far, and somehow I hope that makes up for all the time you've had to wait for it! Anyway, one thing I'd like to point out is that I live in the UK so if there's anything spelled the English way then I'm sorry! Also, all the traditions or customs and geography are made up, so don't pay too much attention to it.

Enjoy!

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I AM ALLOWED

TO ACT CRAZY.

February, 14, 2007.

This time when I wake up I don't waste any time and quickly change into my exercise clothes go down to the basement and do working out. After two hours I stop and look at the clock. It's eight thirty am. I realize I am late for my running routine so I quickly go upstairs, prepare and eat some pancakes. Strangely no one is up yet; Mom is usually up at six to give me my medication. Since she is not down here and I don't want to wake my parents up –because that would also mean facing my dad— I decide to take my meds on my own. I pick them all and put them on the kitchen table, and then I am thinking about how I have only ever known them for their color, names never made sense; and I wonder what each and every one of them would do to me if I took them separately or I took a different combination. The little pills fascinate me at the same time as they exasperate me. I cannot wait till the day when I finally have to stop taking them, mostly because it is a pain having to remember to take them. Also because if I wasn't on medication I would be able to drive and maybe even get a new job, which I wouldn't mind doing. I take all of them at the same time and then wish I hadn't because I have a very hard time swallowing.

When I am done I walk to the living room and stare at the great TV. This machine has been with us for longer than three months yet I am still not used to it. I think about watching something before going running now that the TV is free, when suddenly I hear movement coming from upstairs. There is a lot of banging and then I hear Mom moan like she always does whenever she tries some sort of food that she likes, the difference being that now I am pretty sure there is no food upstairs. Okay so my parents are having sex right now. I take my jacket, put it on and exit the house as fast as someone who's about to be murdered.

Tiffany is nowhere to be seen, but to be honest I didn't expect to see her waiting for me so I am not distressed about it, however some knife-like feeling on my chest makes me think I kind of wish she had. After what happened yesterday I haven't seen or spoken to her. I run for about ten minutes until I settle on paying a visit to Tiffany. Her house has exactly the same look it did yesterday so I think Tiffany will be inside just like the last time. I come closer to the entrance and this time knock politely on the door. Nobody answers. I think about knocking again but decide to wait a bit longer, and in the meantime I stand quietly in front her house door, waiting for something to happen. But nothing does. I look up; I cannot see any lights coming from the second floor. I hold my breath; I cannot hear anything coming from inside either. Strange. Usually when I come around like this and Tiffany does not answer the door I stop to listen for sounds that may indicate she's inside refusing to open the door, and I generally find them quite easily. These are usually footsteps echoing on the hard wooden floor of her dance space or the opening and closing of doors and chest drawers. But now I cannot hear anything. I shrug. If she wants to keep hidden from me it is up to her, her choice, and I will not pursue her anymore. I turn and continue to keep on running. I go past the high school , down Collings Avenue, make a left twice and then I'm in Oaklyn. I continue running until I pass the Black Horse Pike, Kendell Boulevard and Oaklyn Public School, but then my feet stop and I stand frozen. It's not right, something's not right. I'm alert. I look up at the sky, there are no clouds, and that is not good. I spin around and start running in the opposite direction. No clouds with no electricity is not a good omen, I don't like it; everything seems gloomy, cheerless, distressing. I continue jogging and then I am back at Knight's park, as if my feet had brought me here on purpose. I turn my jog into a rhythmic walk and make my way into the park. I feel watched, even though I know I am not. I look behind me, there is no one there. I am alone, in exactly the same spot I was with Tiffany four days ago. It seems like yesterday, it feels like it was only yesterday when I held Tiffany in my arms and she clung onto me as one would hang onto dear life. I miss her.
"Why are you doing this to me, Tiffany?" I say out loud. I don't care who hears me, I don't care who sees me.
"Why are you doing this?!" I repeat, hands on my head, my voice rising. I was in a mental hospital for four years, I am allowed to do this, I am allowed to act crazy, I am allowed to miss the one and only person who I've come to realize is capable of maintaining my sanity. Tiffany. I am allowed to miss her. At last I cannot stand it anymore, I look at my clock and see it's almost half past ten. It is still early but I decide to return home because I don't like being in the park, alone, without Tiffany.

Once inside I cautiously check for noises before I announce that I am home, like I usually do on Sundays. Maybe Mom and Dad are still having sex, me and Nikki used to have long sessions of love making ourselves; maybe I should continue running. But just as I think of going outside to run for another thirty minutes my mother enters the front room, sees me and is quickly hugging me and asking how my running was. I tell her it was not nice and she asks why.

"Because Tiffany was not running today either." I tell her. She looks at me, concerned.

"Are you sure? Maybe she just went running across a different area…" She says.

"Mom, I went to her house and it was empty. Lifeless. I know that because before I left I stopped to listen for sounds and couldn't hear any. And she always runs by the neighborhood." I tell her. As much as I try to conceal it my voice stills sounds worried.

"Well, maybe.."

"Mom, she always runs by the neighborhood." I am losing patience.

"It's okay Pat, just give her time. Perhaps she went out—"

"Where?" I interrupt her. She sounds like she already knows where Tiffany is gone, and I don't like it because I miss Tiffany and I want to know where she is and Mom is not telling me and it irritates me.

"I don't know, Pat, just somewhere…"

"Mom," I cut her off and take her shoulders in my hands. "Where is Tiffany?" I say as I shake her. My voice is cutting steel.

"I don't know Pat…" she says, but I don't believe her.

"In the last letter she gave me she said you were her girlfriend. Tell me where she is Mom, I need to know. Don't hide it from me Mom, you can't hide everything from me, you know you can't!" I am shouting at the last sentence. I want to beat up Mom for not telling me where the only girl I have learnt to care about is. But I don't do that. I remember the last time I unintentionally hit my mother, I regretted it so much afterwards it was enough to make me want to kill myself. I must stay focused, Tiffany would not approve of this, as much as she would understand it. I take a deep, steadying breath and stare directly into my mother's anxious eyes. I decide to calm myself down this way because in the future I don't want to have to close my eyes every time something bothers me. I must learn.
After some seconds I am myself again. Mom finally dares to speak once more.

"We haven't spoken properly since last Sunday, Pat. I don't know where she is or where she's gone. I was just merely suggesting that maybe she ran around a different area, that's all, Pat. Please, I don't want you to worry yourself."

I say nothing.

"Please, Pat…" Mom pleads, but I intervene.

"Okay." I say simply. I let go of her and hastily make my way upstairs, into my bedroom. I have no energy to deal with anything else.

I think about letters as I lay on my bed, facing the roof. All those letters that I sent to Tiffany thinking she would pass onto Nikki. All the weeks I spent, thrilled and delusional, thinking that Nikki would come back to me, thinking she had forgiven me and would love me again no matter what because she had been accepting and writing all those letters.

I don't care about any of that any longer.

I'm not mad at Tiffany anymore.

I never was mad with her.

I was an idiot.

And now she hates me, I think. I begin to remember every reply I ever got from Tiffany in those letters where she pretended to be Nikki. No matter how much it bothered me that she faked being Nikki, she still did a pretty good job at it. I believed every single one of them, even the one where she reproached me for sending two hundred photocopied pages of my diary—

My diary. It's still here, somewhere hidden inside my bedroom, inside this very room. I stand up, restless. I need to find that diary for reasons that are foreign even to me. I scramble through my things until I find the lifeless object that served as my solace and relief for many months. I open it and start to read.

"Dear Nikki… I miss you so much…"
"Dear Nikki… miss all the freckles of your face, when apart time is over I will give you a kiss for every single one of them…"
"Nikki, I have found out apart time has gone on for longer than I thought…"
"…cannot wait to kiss your delicate lips again…"
"… I am practicing being kind rather than right…"
"… I love you so much…"
"Dear dolly.."
"Dearest Nikki.."
"Nikki…"
"Nikki…"
"Nikki…"

Nonsense. I close the diary and throw it on the floor. All that lifeless object contains is a bunch of nonsense and irrational sentences obviously written from a very mentally ill man. I am not that man anymore. It is very hard for me to believe that I actually wrote that at some point of my life, as none of the emotions I describe in those pages have remained with me.

I don't love Nikki.

I was right to look for and read the diary: old movie is definitely over. There is no going back, no need to look back either. I retake the diary in my hands and tear it in half. I don't want to see this rubbish ever again.

I go down to the kitchen and toss the diary into the bin. When I turn, Mom is looking at me, with this look on her face that shows how insecure about talking to me she is.

"Will you join me for lunch, Pat?" she asks timidly. I accept and we both have a quiet meal. Dad does not join us, however. I think he must be in his study because the living room is empty and he is usually in the living room on a Sunday. It doesn't bother me, though. I have bigger matters to worry about. When I am done I stand up and kiss Mom a quick goodbye before I go outside again. I need to find Tiffany.
I try to walk steadily as I make my way to her house, but I cannot extinguish the butterflies that form on the pit of my stomach and the worried thoughts that are constantly flashing through my mind as I take one step after another towards her household. Please be there, I beg.

But she is not there.

Just as this morning, the house is lifeless. Where are you, Tiffany. I look around, maybe she is watching me from a distance; maybe she is watching me from inside her parent's house. There is no one to be seen around however I don't abandon my hope and opt for knocking on Tiffany's parent's front door. If she's not inside perhaps they can tell me where she has gone so that I can go and look for her because I am worried about her and I want to see her again and I don't want her to hate me. I knock three times before someone finally answers.

"Who is it and what do you want?" says a voice from behind the door.

"Is Tiffany there?" I ask. The door opens, ajar. A pair of eyes then stare at me, doubtfully.

"Pat?" The voice says.

"Yes. Is Tiffany there?" I repeat.

The door opens a little bit more, revealing the feminine figure of Mrs Webster, Tiffany's mother.

"She's not in here. What do you want with her, Pat?" She asks me.
"I want to find her because I need to speak to her" I say. Suddenly a male figure is standing behind his wife. Mr Webster.

"Hey you selfish bastard, what do you want with my daughter? Don't you think she's been hurt enough already?"

I am paralyzed.

"Are you here to shout at her a little bit more? Wasn't yesterday enough?" He goes on. I stare back at them, my face blank. The words Tiffany's dad is saying should drive me mad, but instead they make me feel guilty. I feel bad, I feel ashamed, I feel awful. And I can't help it.

"I just want to know where she is, I won't shout at her, I promise." I say in my defense. He rolls his eyes and then disappears. Tiffany's Mom remains stuck in her place. And then she says:

"We don't know where she is. She is old enough to make her own decisions anyway. You're best off just going home and coming back tomorrow. I'm sure she'll be here by then." She tells me. She tries to hide it but I recognize the worry in her voice. And I believe her; I believe what she is telling me, because any mother that speaks with worry is a mother telling the truth. I thank her and turn away. I start to get frustrated because I can't get hold of Tiffany, when suddenly I remember that there is a chance she might be at her sister's house. So I turn and initiate my run towards their place.

When I get there I waste no time and knock on the door. My best friend Ronnie opens.
"Pat! What's up, man?" He asks me.

"Hi Ronnie," I say. "I was wondering if you could tell me where Tiffany is."

"Tiffany?" He asks, his face darkens.

"Yes. Do you know where she is?" I insist.

"No man, I don't." His voice becomes hard. I Know Ronnie's still mad at Tiffany for writing those letters to me, and I don't like it, so I just stare at him with a locked jaw. I want him to know I am being serious. After a brief moment he asks "Have you tried her house?"

"There is nobody in there." I say. "I've just been there and even talked with her parents. They say they don't know. I was also up there this morning but she wasn't home back then either."

"I don't know where she is, I'm sorry Pat. But say, what do you need her for? I thought you two had already made up."

"I just want to talk to her." I explain.

"Well, we—"

"We invited Tiffany to dinner a couple of days ago," Veronica cuts him, materializing from behind his back.

"She said she would do her best to try to make it but called me yesterday and said there was something she had to do today, someplace she had to go. We haven't heard from her since." I am a little surprised at what she is saying because I thought Tiffany would be here.

"Do you know where she's gone?" I ask, anxiously.

"I don't know. When I asked her she refused to tell, and when I asked how she was going to get there she said she would take the train, that's all I know."

Ronnie and Veronica look at me with enquiring faces, but I don't tell them why I want to find or talk with Tiffany. After some brief seconds Veronica makes a comment on how she must go back to attend little Emily and then leaves.

"You OK, pal?" Ronnie asks me. He must sense my worry.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." I say, and then walk away.

I walk up and down the main road so many times I end up losing count. Tiffany's taken the train; I don't know why, I don't know where, I don't know what for. It kills me. I just want to talk to her, that's all. But she's not here, she's not with me, and I miss her and I want her so bad. Even if Dad doesn't approve of her and Ronnie thinks she's a bad influence and Jake has threatened to kill her. Jake. My brother who supports me in everything and who bought my season tickets for the football that I obviously wanted to watch. My brother threatened to kill the only woman I care about. Of course I had already talked with him about this and he agreed to leave Tiffany alone, but I don't think he actually got the message I was trying to put across because when I warned him I didn't know I needed Tiffany. My brother who maybe, just maybe is involved in all of this. Maybe he called Tiffany and told her to get a train and meet him some place to talk with her, probably about me. Maybe my brother is with Tiffany right now.

I stop walking.

I need answers. I know I sound crazy, but I am allowed to act crazy, especially when it concerns matters such as Tiffany. I run back to my house and then ask Mom for money for the train. When she asks why I throw some evasive answers and then exit the house. I can hear her voice shouting behind me as I run down the road, but I don't look back. I need to get to Jake as soon as I can. I hope on a train to Philadelphia and then walk down Market Street and Second Street until I find the high-rise building in which Jake lives. I still remember his exact address. When I enter, the doorman asks my name and who I am visiting. I give him the details he wants but I am a little annoyed with him because he does not remember me from the last time I came. Next, I get on the elevator where the man with the monkey costume is waiting for me and he takes me to the tenth floor after I mention my brother's name. The blue hallway and thick red carpet open themselves up to me as I look for Jake's door number. 1021. I immediately start banging the door until my brother answers.

"Pat?" he says after he opens the door.

"I need to talk to you" I say. He lets me in and then we are both sitting in his leather couch.

"So, what do you need to talk with me about?" He asks. I look around, no sign of Tiffany… or Caitlin.

"Where is your wife?" I ask. I feel weird referring to Caitlin as my brother's wife.

"She's up in New York doing some recordings. What is it, Pat?" He repeats.

"Where is Tiffany?" I say, my face harsh. Unforgiving. He's taken aback for a moment.

"Tiffany? What? I-I don't know-why-why would I know where that lying bitch is?" He raises his voice. And I lose it. I grab his shoulders and smash him against the couch.

"Listen Jake, I need Tiffany, do you understand? I. Need. Her." I emphasize the word 'need' as I want him to understand this utmost necessity. "She's not a bitch and she already apologized for lying. So stop it, stop it!" I am shouting. "And you know what? I have already forgiven her, and so has Mom and so have Ronnie and Veronica. So I think you should follow and forgive her once and for all already. I know we talked about this last time but this time I'm serious, Jake, she's the reason I am here, she's the reason I'm sane. I need her." I finish telling him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

And then I let go of him, put my hands on my face and start to cry. I cry with loud sobs as Jake pats my back and tells me to calm down. I cry because too many things are happening all at the same time and I cannot keep up with them. I cry because a week ago I was a totally different man but now Tiffany has completely changed me and I can no longer recognize myself. I cry because I want Tiffany like a kid wants a lolly and I want to hold her and to kiss her and tell her that she was right: I just needed to find closure to start living my own life, and that thanks to her I have found it and my own life has no meaning without her in it. After some time I stop crying and look up at Jake. His face has changed; now the features have softened, transforming his face into pure apprehensiveness. I am much more relaxed now, and Jake can see that too, but what I cannot hide and Jake has already noticed are the features of my face which indicate worry all over the place. My brother hesitates a bit before speaking to me but finally manages to get the words out of him.

"I'm sorry, Pat." He says, and I can hear a tiny quiver in his voice which only happens when someone is telling the utter truth. I have heard this quiver before on Tiffany and that's how I recognize it in Jake, but it has also reminded me of her and the fact that I am sitting in front of my younger brother crying my heart out because of her momentarily absence.

"I didn't-I never—" He tries to go on but has a hard time finding the right words. "I never knew you needed her this bad." He ultimately says. After some 'don't worry's' and some 'it's okay's' he manages to calm me down and comfort me. And now that we are both thinking straight Jake asks me where I think Tiffany has gone.

"I don't know," I reply. "Her sister Veronica told me something about how she was going to get a train to go someplace. But I don't know what place and I can't think of any either." I pause, and think. Where would Tiffany be right now? I cannot imagine her spending a whole day in a clothes store looking for the best deal of a new Versace dress, so I strongly doubt she has gone out shopping. She literally lives with her parents so she hasn't gone to visit them because I was just there and she wasn't with them. Same thing with her sister. There is no place I can come up with and it upsets me.

Before I can start crying again Jake says "If she got on a train that must mean she is going far and maybe will not return until much later. Cheer up, Pat. I know how it feels to need someone because that's exactly how I felt when I first met Caitlin, but there is no need to stress yourself about this because let me tell you: she will come back soon."

My brother definitely has a point, but he is seeing things from a 34-year-old-happily-married-man, not from a 35-year-old-fucked-up-desperate-man. I remember I am the one on irritating medication, the one who spent four years in a mental hospital and the only one of us allowed to act crazy; and I make no excuses and no apologies about my behavior.

After some more minutes at his place I decide to head home again. There is nothing else to do here.

Back at home things have not improved either. Mom says she has tried calling Tiffany's cell phone but apparently it is shut down so she has not been able to contact her. Veronica and Ronnie called to notify the same problem and Tiffany's parents are starting to get worried about her as well. I learn this is about the first time that Tiffany leaves so early in the morning and spends so much time outside without letting anybody know. Normal families wouldn't worry about their fully grown daughter disappearing for days, but Tiffany is like me so of course they're going to worry. However now that I know this a very unpleasant feeling has settled itself in the bottom of my stomach, liver, pancreas, lungs, mouth, etc. I can hear Dad in the living room watching TV so I go directly upstairs and lay on my bed for the time being.

I close my eyes and try to get some sleep even though I have never taken a nap in my life, but this so-not-nice feeling is making me feel sick and I can feel the need to throw up so I remain unmoved on my bed, trying to hold my lunch in. When I open my eyes the sky's crystal blue has transformed into marine blue. I close my eyes again. I open them and the sky has turned purple and pink with bits of dark blue here and there. I close my eyes.

When I open them for the final time darkness swallows me and I worry I might have woken up in the middle of the night. I sit up, look at the clock and see it's almost ten pm. I have missed dinner but to be honest I am still sick so I don't feel bad at all for not joining Mom at the table. Then the thought of a missing Tiffany hits me and I stand up and run back downstairs.

"Mom! Have there been any news about Tiffany yet?" I ask at the thin air. Then Mom comes up to me, her face sheet white, not one pint of pink on her usually rosy cheeks. "No… nothing." She says. Her tone is so extremely low I actually have to listen hard to hear what she is saying. I stare at her but she looks down at the floor, like she's hiding something. And then I hear the house phone ring. Once. I am looking at Mom, none of us moving. Twice. I am running to get it. Three times.

"Hello?" I ask, breathless.

"Pat," the voice says. "It's Jake." I remain silent waiting for his next words, but his next words don't come and I worry.

"What is it?" I ask with a barely audible tone.

"It's about Tiffany…" He stops for a few seconds, but then he's rushing. "You told me she got the train today. I didn't want to believe it when I saw it but it's on the CNN news, everybody's talking about it, there are sirens everywhere and I don't know how to tell you this but you probably… oh Pat I'm so sorry I just, Pat listen I'm sure she was not there, she was not there, don't worry Pat, she was not there…"

At first I don't understand what my brother keeps on telling me, I can only recognize a few words here and there, like 'accident' and 'deaths', but after a while it becomes obvious what he is trying to say, and although my heart does not want to register it, my brain and reason do. There was a malfunction on one of the trains coming back from Delaware to Philadelphia and due to this another train accidentally crashed onto it. There have been 47 deaths. This happened only a few hours ago. Tiffany is still not back at home. No one has been able to reach her. Her aunt lives not far from Delaware. Tiffany probably went to visit her, and took that train to come back. Tiffany is probably dead.

The phone drops from my hand, leaving my too agitated brother on the line. My first thought is 'this isn't happening'. I refuse to believe anything of what Jake tells me, he is lying. He is just playing a sick joke on me for some reason. So I quickly walk to the living room, hoping to clarify my doubts with the CNN news. Surely nothing about train crashes is being reported. But when I enter the living room I stand frozen. The images show the body of a woman in a stretcher being transported into the ambulance, but the paramedics are just wasting their time, because everybody knows she's dead. My eyes wander to the bottom left of the screen, where there is usually a short summary of the news being reported above, but just as my rational brain expected I cannot find any kind of comfort in there.

"… ESTIMATED 47 DEATHS IN AFTERNOON DELAWARE TRAIN ACCIDENT…" I read. And then something breaks inside me. I can literally feel my heart dropping from where it should be and going down, down to the bottom of my stomach, down to the bottom of my guts, down until it is no longer inside my body. I don't know what I do next, if break down and cry or continuously shout at the TV; everything happens so fast I cannot register anything. And then the room is spinning and somehow I am banging my head against the wall and sobbing at the top of my lungs as the word "Tiffany" escapes my mouth after each whimper and bang on the wall.

"Tiffany—Tiffany—Where—Are—You—Tiffany—Tiffany" I cry.

I don't think I notice Dad's strong arms around me until I am looking directly into his eyes. For a moment I fear he might hit me, but his face shows worry instead of annoyance. For the first time in years, probably, my father is worried about me. I try to stop crying as I look at Dad's face, but instead of stopping, I only manage to cry even more and even louder on my father's shoulder. He simply holds me. He does not hug me back, he does not pat my back, he does not say comforting words like my brother did earlier today. But despite this lack of expression, I feel accepted into my father's world again. And despite the fact that he doesn't say anything at all, I find comfort on his still embrace.

Today feels like a dream.

Maybe I am hallucinating.

After a while, I pull away from Dad before it becomes too awkward for both of us, and then I manage to reduce my sobs to silent tears. Some part of my brain wants to believe all of this is one big hallucination, that none of this is actually happening and that I am hallucinating because of the pills I took this morning. Maybe I did take the wrong combination after all. But the other, larger and stronger part of my brain knows this is the real world, not some kind of dream, that the train accident actually happened and that there is a strong chance that Tiffany will be dead.

I don't know when it happens, but all of a sudden we are getting many phone calls and all the phones in the house are ringing incessantly and Mom is everywhere speaking with everyone on the line. Veronica and Ronnie have also seen the news and they're calling for an update on things –apparently they called earlier as well—they want to know if any of us has been able to contact Tiffany, but my mother has no good news to give to them. Then Tiffany's parents are calling and they want to know the same thing. Again bad news have to be broken and more and more silent tears continue to fall from my eyes. I should have told her earlier. I should have told her earlier. I should have told her earlier. That is all I can think about: I should have told her earlier.

And then, just as I am about to start sobbing again, the doorbell rings. I freeze for a second, and then break into a run as I go across the living room and the front room. When I reach the entrance I waste no time and open the door.

And then I see her.

Tiffany.

She's standing outside the house door, wearing a bun which allows two loose strands of her delicate black hair to stand on either side of her face, wearing too much make-up on but the right amount of it for her eyes to exhibit their marvelous deep green color and wearing a lovely red necklace which reflects the tint of her blood red lips.

Tiffany.

She's alive.
She's okay.
She's here.

My body reacts before my mind does, fulfilling the desire it had so long craved for.

Involuntarily I take two steps towards her and my firm lips slant over hers as they claim and own them. Her lips rapidly spread and then our mouths collide with such force I am left breathless. Her hands clamp around my neck as my fingers dig deep into her hair undoing her already disheveled bun. The sensation inside me grows warmer, hotter, spreading all the way through my body as our mouths and bodies move rhythmically. My lips crave hers. My hands own her body, her soul, her very self.

Passion.

So this is how it feels like.

I had never experienced this kind of feeling before, not even with Nikki, and now all I can think about is Tiffany. How much I've missed her, how much I want her, how much I need her.

When I pull away Tiffany's eyes meet my gaze with a questioning look. I know she wants to go on, I want to go on, but right now I cannot allow her to keep on kissing me, as much as I like it, because right now I remember that I was very close to loosing her and I remember that there is something I must say to her before she disappears again.

So I carefully clutch her face in my hands, look straight into her eyes and say,

"I love you, Tiffany Webster. I love you so fucking much."

And stare at her long enough to see her eyes dampen and her lips form an unmissable grin before she leans on and her lips are all over mine again.