A million and one apologies. I didn't intend for there to be 5-6 months between updates, but my ongoing health issues (a damn soap opera, I swear) have not made writing/typing the easiest. I've also lost some vision in my good eye which adds to all the fun. Again, not seeking pity or sympathy, just giving an explanation for why I have been MIA.

I will try to get back into responding to reviews again because I really do enjoy that interaction. It may not be prompt, but I will get to you eventually.

Nothing will stop me from writing. It's my favorite, most relaxing hobby and keeps me sane. I will find a way to do it even if it comes down to voice to text. (which I still find super weird.)

But I thank you for your patience.

"…and then this little gumdrop burst into tears because the lock on his make-believe superhero car-"

"Batmobile," Eric supplied, assuming that was the vehicle. What other superhero had such a cool car?

"Right, the lock was jammed and he was stuck inside. We tried to tell him there was no bat car so he could just get out, but the poor thing insisted there really was a car and he just sat on the floor and cried."

Angela watched her boyfriend, amused. "You've always had an active imagination."

"Funny."

"I love hearing little Eric stories. You were so cute."

"Don't call me cute in front of my grandma."

"I thought I couldn't call you cute in front of your mom."

"How about we drop cute all together? I told you, cute's not good for my ego."

"Okay, gumdrop."

"Watch it, Anela," he warned good-naturedly, referencing the name she called herself as a toddler. She was having way too much fun at his expense this evening. "Or the next time we see your dad or Aunt Lois I'll ask for stories about you."

"Oh! Before I forget," Bernice began as she stood, "Eric, I've got a surprise for you. I'll be right back."

"Ooh, a surprise? I love surprises." Frankly, this whole evening had been a surprise. Bernice Matthews had never been the grandmother who prepared a home-cooked meal. She ordered takeout. Sure, she made sure it was your favorite takeout, but it was takeout. And prior to a year ago, her home had been a Winnebago instead of a condo with an ocean view. "What is it?"

"You can wait thirty more seconds, Mr. Impatient." She gathered the dinner plates. "Not a fan of the Jell-O salad, dear?"

"Um…well…you see," Angela stammered, "the rest of the food was just so good I ran out of room." In her defense, she tried it, but the lemon Jell-O and pineapple chunks hidden beneath the mixture of cabbage, carrots, and one other vegetable she had yet to identify was not a pleasant surprise. That she controlled her nearly instantaneous gag reflex at the combination was nothing short of a miracle. She'd spent the rest of the meal eating the other- thankfully- delicious food while trying to decipher the contents of the "salad" and questioning the sanity of the person who invented it.

"It's okay, you can stop twisting yourself into a pretzel. Alan never liked it much either. He was nowhere near as polite about it as you, however."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I'm hardly sending you to bed without dessert." She winked. "Be right back with that surprise."

Eric waited until they were alone to speak. "You don't like the Jell-O salad?"

"Honest?"

"That's how we do things."

"Okay then. It's Jell-O and vegetables. In what world do those go together? Add in the pineapple and…" She shook her head. "It's wrong."

"You mean it's different."

"You like it?"

"Well, I…is it my favorite food? No, but it's edible enough for me to choke down to make my grandma happy."

"Jell-O and cabbage," she challenged.

"If you're worried about later tonight after the cabbage, we can leave the window open and I'll sleep by-" Eric stopped talking when she broke down laughing. "What?" He looked around. "Did I miss something?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just wondering what kind of couple milestone you hit when you freely discuss gas."

"If it's a milestone then we hit it before we even became a couple because thirteen-hour road trips don't leave a lot of room for mystery," he noted with a pointed stare.

"Don't even be looking at me like that. You were the one who insisted we detour on the way home so you could try authentic Cincinnati chili."

"Yes, and I paid the price."

"Excuse me, your horn section wasn't exactly silent, mister."

He snorted. "My horn section?"

She shrugged. "That's how my mom referred to gas when I was little. Burps were percussion or bass and farts were horns."

"That's cute, but this whole Jell-O, cabbage, chili, horn section conversation is weird."

"Agreed."

"Okay, Eric, here we are!"

Angela was bewildered when Bernice placed an amazing looking cake in front of Eric and wished him a happy birthday before urging him to blow out the candles. Had she missed something? Wasn't his birthday in February?

"I was going over my calendar when I realized that your visit would fall over your half-birthday, which is today. And since I didn't celebrate your actual birthday-"

"Sorry, grandma, but you know…I turned twenty-one. That's the biggie."

"Right. And I hope you made the most of it and had a scandalous time."

Eric thought back to the night of his twenty-first. He tried anyway. "I think so." Things got blurry after a few rounds of Fireball Whiskey and Tequila shots.

"You did," Angela said. Though their friendship was still new at the time new of his birthday, she did go to his party. He was the first in the group to turn twenty-one. He was the only one of far. Rachel and Jack wouldn't be twenty-one until October and January respectively. They'd needed fake IDs to access the bar to party. With Jack's allowance from his stepdad and some friend of Shawn's who sold them to make tuition money, it was no issue. And still, Cory spent the whole night freaking out that they were going to be busted by the cops. Her only annoyance was that the name on her ID was Imogen. How was she supposed to pull off Imogen? At least it was from Shakespeare, so it had that going for it. "It took Jack, Shawn, and Cory to drag you back to the apartment and into bed if I remember correctly."

"Awesome. No, wait…the next morning sucked. That was the worst hangover of my life." He glanced at his grandmother. "I mean the only hangover of my life. Tried alcohol once at twenty-one and that was it. One and done! Alcohol is yucky."

Bernice rolled her eyes. "Eric, please. I'm not stupid. I'm sure you had your fair share of trial runs at adult beverages before the law would prefer and even more since."

"Can I plead the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon?"

"Only if he bought you a drink, honey."

Angela giggled. "You mean plead the fifth."

"It's not like I'm ever going to tell your parents on you, so I don't know what you're so afraid of."

"Well…"

"That's what I thought. Anyway, you know how much I love half-birthdays. It keeps you young."

"Plus, more chances to get presents." He'd learned long ago that grandma frequently did half-birthday celebrations to cover for forgetting the actual day. Mom mentioned before that his dad and aunts celebrated more than their share of half-birthdays when they were kids. It wasn't malicious. Grandma just didn't live by the clock and calendar like the rest of the world, not even for her own children.

"Eric!"

"It's okay, Angela. He's right. What's a birthday celebration without presents?" Instead of making him wait, Bernice simply held out an envelope. "I asked the kids in my TaeBo class, and the consensus was that the best gift to give a college student was cold, hard, cash, so-"

Eric could hardly restrain himself from yanking the gift out of her hands. "Cash is always- wait a minute. You take TaeBo classes?"

"What, you thought I got this figure doing water aerobics with a bunch of blue-haired old ladies?"

Ummm… "You're my grandma. You don't have a figure."

"Just take the present and say thank you."

He held out his hands. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, handing over the envelope.

He was almost giddy. Maybe he'd have some fun money for a change. Or get to treat Angela to a meal that wasn't a two-for-one special. "Ben Franklins! My favorite!" Eric jumped out of his seat and hugged his grandmother. "You're the best!"

"Well, thank you. Now Let's cut into this cake."

/

/

How old were you when you enlisted?

What made you want to enlist in the army?

Did you have a backup plan?

Overall, how would you say being in the military has impacted your life?

Cory sighed and stared at his computer screen. Why was it so hard to come up with questions to ask Sgt. Moore? He had a page of questions for his own dad in no time. Maybe, he realized, it was because any question that went beyond superficial ran the risk of pissing off Angela. And an angry Angela could be downright cold. He'd expect no different this time around, except with the added bonus of Eric acting as her attack dog if she didn't want to deal with him face to face.

But it wasn't fair. The only questions left were sensitive ones about their family life and how the military affected that. Angela was bound to get upset and he'd wager that her dad wouldn't be thrilled either. Why had he agreed to make this stupid movie anyway? 'It was your idea, dummy,' the little voice in his head replied.

"Hey!" Cory looked around; grateful Jack wasn't home. This way he didn't have to explain that he was yelling at the voice in his head. "God, is this what it feels like to be Eric," he wondered aloud.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone rang. Still, he was also relieved because at least it was a distraction. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Cory?"

"Topanga," he asked, his tone hopeful, despite knowing deep down that she'd never have to question if it was him. They could be dead a million years and still recognize each other's voices.

"Um…no, it-it's Lina."

"Who?"

"Lina? From the party a couple of weeks ago? On the roof?"

Right. Lina. Pretty girl from the roof: blonde hair, dark brown eyes that were warm and comforting and…not Topanga! "Oh! Lina, he-hello. Sorry, it's been…I've been working on a project and haven't let myself come up for air much lately."

"Your documentary project, right? How is that coming along?"

"You remember?"

"Sure. You were pretty passionate about it when we talked."

"I was? Well, I wish some of that passion would come back to me now because I'm drawing a blank on some interview questions."

"Then it's a good thing I called to distract you." She took a deep breath. "Are you doing anything Friday night?"

"I…what?"

"The campus is having a crawl event for students to-"

"What's that?"

"It's like a bar crawl, but-"

"I'm only nineteen. Bar crawls are a no-go. I'm sorry if that makes me a stick in the mud, but rules are rules for a reason, missy." He'd leave out that he was already busted by the cops once for underage drinking and peeing on a police car. There was no way to come out of that looking even a little sympathetic.

"If you'd let me finish, I was going to say it's like a bar crawl but with restaurants. You know: pizza places, burgers joints, diners, tacos. They're even providing buses to shuttle everyone around. It helps students find all the little hidden places they might not discover otherwise."

"Did you say tacos?" His ears perked up. "I like tacos."

Lina giggled into the phone. Did he only hear one word? "Is that a yes?"

He froze, momentarily paralyzed with fear. The event sounded amazing and under normal circumstances he'd be the ringleader, rounding up his friends to go along for the food and fun. But these weren't normal circumstances and the girl on the other end of the phone wasn't Topanga. That was why no one was more surprised than Cory when the next words out of his mouth were, "Sure, sounds great."

"Okay. Fantastic. I'll meet you at four in the main parking lot. The buses leave at 4:15."

"I'll be there." What was he saying?

"Great. Bye, Cory."

"Bye." He hung up the phone and lowered his head, hitting it against the keyboard over and over again. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

/

/

"…and if there's a day you don't feel like trekking the whole two minutes down to the beach, you can hang out by the pool," Bernice spoke as she led the way down the hall. "I already talked to the annoying condo board president, Miriam Brunswick, and let that busybody know that my handsome grandson and his beautiful girlfriend are visiting."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks."

"That woman nearly had a heart attack when she saw Mr. Keller's grandchildren in the kiddie pool because she didn't know them," she continued. "You'd think she'd realize it's summer. People are going to have their little grandchildren visit them near the beach. I swear, that woman's the wicked witch of the Mid-Atlantic."

"Yeah, she sounds like loads of fun, grandma."

"And don't worry, I already got you beach tags."

"What are beach tags?"

"Basically, a permit to enjoy the ocean," she explained to the younger woman. "It's a New Jersey thing. But we're pretty lucky that right around here is usually locals. We're just far enough away from the tourist traps that most people don't want to bother, so you should have plenty of beach to yourselves." She came to a stop at the end of the hall. "Here we are. If you don't want to be woken up at some godawful hour, I suggest you keep those curtains closed. The morning sun reflects off that water like a mirror."

"Okay."

"My room is at the other end of the apartment and I'm a very heavy sleeper."

Eric nodded, not sure why she was telling them. "Thanks for sharing."

"So I won't hear a thing if you two decide to have-"

"Grandma!" He looked to Angela for help, but he couldn't tell if she was trying not to laugh or plotting her escape off the balcony.

"Please, Eric. I'm older. Not dead. I was young once. I'm still young at heart."

"Good night, grandma."

/

/

"All right, a bag of rippers, French fries, and onion rings," Eric declared as he rejoined his girlfriend under their umbrella on the sand. "What more could you want?"

"What's a ripper?"

"It's a hot dog that's been deep-fried until it practically explodes and rips open: a ripper. Get it?" He held out the food to her, but she made no move for it. Instead, she remained laying down. Her head was turned towards him, but her eyes were obscured by her Nan's frames so he couldn't be sure where she was looking. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"I thought you were hungry."

"I am, I'm just…I don't know. I want to enjoy this moment."

"How would food ruin the moment?"

Angela sat up and removed her sunglasses so she could look at him. "Thank you for bringing me here. It's been so peaceful and part of me hates that we must go back to reality in a couple of days because I could so easily stay here on this beach with you forever." She grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled him close. "This has been the perfect vacation."

"I know what you mean," he said as he wrapped his arm around her and stared out at the ocean. "It's making me think about the future."

"Oh?"

"I used to think that when I got older and obviously rich from my meteorologist job-"

"From working at one of the national morning shows or The Weather Channel?"

"Maybe. Why? You think I could make it at one of those places?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

Eric couldn't quite put into words what it meant to have her unwavering support. "So, uh…back to me being older and rich."

"Yeah?"

"I used to think I'd be happy with a place in the city- a penthouse- and a cabin in the mountains to get away from it all."

"And now?"

"Definitely adding a beachside retreat, haven't decided yet if it will be a condo or beach house, but something with sand and waves."

She chuckled. "Three homes? You think you'd get to use them all equally to make it worth it? I don't know how realistic it is."

"Shh! What have I told you about killing my stories with your facts?"

"I'm sorry, baby." Angela sat up and kissed his cheek. "Keep living the dream."

"Thank you. I'll even make sure they all have a balcony for you." She seemed really excited by the baby balcony at her new apartment and every night before bed on vacation she's spent time either on the deck at the lodge or on the balcony off their bedroom here with his grandma. "This way you can always have a little oasis."

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, unsure of how to respond. Thinking about the future, at least the long-term future, was still a scary prospect. "Thanks, that-that's really sweet."

"Food time," he asked after an extended silence.

"Yeah, food time."

/

/

"Topanga?"

She smiled and acknowledged her aunt, who stood in the doorway. "Hi, Aunt Pru."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to be here when you got back. I had to be in the lab this morning."

After her youngest child started high school, Aunt Prue went back to school to get her masters in chemistry for her job as a research scientist. Topanga had always been proud of her aunt's ambition and drive to succeed, even when it seemed unlikely. "It's fine."

"Is Nebula here?"

"Not right now. She's catching up with a couple of friends. She said she'd be back later and either drive back tomorrow or the day after."

"Okay. I did call your mother to let her know you arrived."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. Mother to mother, I did. She deserved to know that you're safe."

"Whatever," Topanga muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"She said she'd like to see you when you're ready."

"Tell her not to hold her breath."

Prudence took a deep breath and walked further into the room. She couldn't believe her niece was acting like a typical teenager with the sighing, mumbling, and rolling her eyes. Yes, she was still a teen…barely. She'd turn twenty in November, only three months away, but Topanga was far from typical, always had been. "Can we talk?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"If we don't talk now, we'll talk later. But rest assured, we will talk."

Topanga pushed her chair away from the desk and spun it around to face her aunt. "What is it?"

"I offered you all of the grace and sympathy in the world when you first learned about your parents' situation and I still feel sympathy for you, however-"

"However?"

"Yes. However, at some point you need to stop acting like you are the first person in the world whose parents have gone their separate ways and, most importantly, you can't let it absorb every facet of your life. Is this your personality now? You're not Topanga anymore; you're the girl with divorced parents?"

"Why are you being so mean to me?"

"You're being mean to yourself, honey." Prudence sat at the foot of the bed. "Look, maybe I don't have your exact viewpoint as the child in this situation, but I have been through a divorce. It's not something a couple intends to do when planning their future." Her niece said nothing. "You can be angry and hurt about the situation all you want. That's normal. But things won't magically go back to the way they were just because you do the equivalent of stomping your feet and refusing to accept it. Your parents are getting divorced. You can't change it or wish it away. It's happening. And a lot of times it's for the best. Your Uncle Arthur and I became much better partners and, most importantly, parents after our divorce."

"Could you go now? I need to read through the packet I got about picking my classes for the Fall semester."

"Think about what I said, okay?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"And don't hole up in your room until school starts. Go out. Call Cory, Angela, Shawn…any friend. Have fun. Live life."

"We'll see."

"It's good to have you home, Topanga. I missed you."

"Thanks, Aunt Prue. I missed you, too."

/

/

"Ah, don't you dare," Angela shrieked and scampered for the shore.

"Aw, come on. It's just a little rock snot."

"If you touch me with that, you'll never touch me in any other way again. Ever."

"It won't hurt you." He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, lifting her off her feet. "It's just a little slimy. Just look at it."

"Eric, I swear-" She turned her head away from his free hand, which was inches from her face. "I'll tell on you to my dad. Hell, I'll tell on you to your dad…no, your mom."

He scoffed. "Well, that's just mean, bringing my mommy into this. But fine. Have it your way." He opened his hand, revealing that it had been empty all along.

"What…I don't…"

"Rock snot is only found in freshwater, silly."

"Then what was the point of that?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "It seemed better for you to be annoyed with me for a few minutes than get freaked out by the bunch of jellyfish coming our way."

"Jellyfish?"

"Yeah. I've seen that episode of Friends. No thanks."

They walked hand in hand back to their spot. "Wow, so you've saved me from a turkey and jellyfish." She laid back on the towels and pulled him down with her…on top of her. "You really are my superhero."

"Does that mean there's another duck in my future?"

"I thought we could make out, but if you'd rather have a duck I could-" Any further words were lost to his kisses. She gave no thought to the fact that they were in public. Anyone walking on the beach could see them. Angela simply wanted to enjoy this moment. Enjoy the two of them getting to exist as if they were the only people in the world. Soon enough there would be school, work, friends, and a million other distractions competing for their attention. Who knew the next time they'd get real alone time?

"Hey, where'd you go?"

She looked up and saw Eric peering down at her, concerned. "Huh?"

"Are you okay? You just kinda stopped kissing me."

Angela ran her hand along his jaw. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"I feel like I miss you and us and this vacation already. Going home is going to be chaos."

"Yeah," he agreed. "We're not home yet though." Eric rolled onto his back and hugged her to his chest. "I've been thinking, too."

"Oh?"

"Everyone's going to hate us when we get home."

"Why?"

"We going to be that annoying couple."

"What annoying couple?"

"You know, that couple who is so happy it makes everyone else around them sick because of how dopey in love they are."

"You think so?"

"Don't get me wrong, I know things won't be perfect, but we'll make a few people green."

"You promise?"

"Definitely. They're gonna want to puke."