Title: My
Isabel
Part: (1/1)
Rating: pg-13
Author: Jenn
Disclaimer: You know the deal. They're not mine..but if
they were..OH the things we'd SEE on tv!!
=) Note: What am I saying? There is no note. Well, except
to say thanks to Helen for keeping me inspired by saying
"WRITE!!" and "I'm loving it! Write
more!!" Thanks Helen....
Feedback: PLEASE... all it takes is a simple - "I
loved the fic." to keep me going!!!
Distribution: Extra-Sugar and RSA, without a doubt!
Anywhere else..please ask! Oh, and...Slightly Left of
Venus. That is...if you want it, Kate.
I took a shower.
A hot shower.
The kind of shower that
leaves your skin red and tingly and the bathroom
completely filled with steam. Sometimes that's the only
thing that helps. And then sometimes, it brings them all
back. All the memories. Memories of her. The feel of her
skin..her lips. The feel of the hot water, rushing over
our bodies, as if we were under a waterfall. The feel of
making love to her against the shower wall.
Different images come to
me at different times. Sometimes I welcome them...other
times I fight to hold back the tears as I recall her
touch. Her lips. Her fingers. The feel of her hands
gliding over every possible inch of my body. I fight to
stand as every drip of water reminds me how she felt
under my touch. The tears fall, each drowning in what
used to be our "waterfall". That's what she
used to call it.
Our secret waterfall.
The others never knew.
If she mentioned it in front of them, they only thought
it was some stupid inside joke. And it was an inside
joke...but it wasn't as funny as we pretended it to be.
It was serious. What we felt for each other was serious.
Being together was hard. Being secretive from a group of
already paranoid teenagers was hard. They never suspected
us. Then again, how could they, when everything always
took place at my house. After we graduated, she even
moved in with me, to help me keep the house. To help pay
the rent.
That's when things got
better. Having her there with me at night, holding me
close. Those were the moments that I lived for. Aside
from Michael's apartment, where we previously held most
of our meetings, mine seemed to be the new local hang
out. It made it hard for us to share my room, when they
were all crashing there, as often as possible. That made
it more fun, though. More challenging. It just so
happened that when Nasedo and I had moved in, I took the
room with a bathroom that connected to a spare bedroom.
So when she moved in, that's the one she took.
Once, when Max was
sleeping over, he took the room directly across from
mine. After he was presumably asleep, she crept into my
room. We never could go long without touching each other.
Things got carried away. I guess Max heard what was going
on. It was easy to lie and say that I had been having a
bad dream. I still thank a God that I don't really
believe in, that he knocked that night. Sure, it would of
been easier, to just be open with everyone. To let them
know that there was something going on between us, and to
let them know that we *did* have feelings for each other.
Feelings stronger than we'd ever felt. There was just
something about it being our secret, that made it so
special. It was something that just she and I were privy
to.
I think that Liz started
to catch on one night. Everyone was over. Movie night..or
whatever they wanted to call it. To me, it just meant
that everyone was crashing at my place. It just meant
that either Liz or Maria would stay with Isabel and the
other would share *my* room, while Max and Michael took
the couch and the other extra room. Where was I? Oh, Liz
started to suspect us. Though, I don't really think that
even *she* knew what she suspected. Just that something
wasn't right. "Normal", or whatever. Isabel and
I...we were smiling at each other a lot, I guess. I did
that a lot though. It just seemed normal to smile at her.
To look at her and think about everything that she stood
for. About everything that drove me crazy about her.
Liz is nosy. She
pretends not to be. Then again, maybe she didn't realize
it then. She managed to corner me in the kitchen while
everyone was piled in the living room. I hate how she
goes about finding out what she wants to know. Starting
out with small talk. "How's everything going?"
Stuff like that. I know she wanted to ask. I know she
wanted to be blunt for a change, and outright ask me if
there was something between Isabel and I. But she didn't.
What she did was worse. Liz asked me why I bothered
ruining nearly a whole year, that she could have spent
with Max, if it was never Max that I really wanted. I
wanted to hit her then. I'd never wanted to do that,
despite how I had acted. I probably would have, too, if I
hadn't looked up only to see Isabel frozen in the
doorway. She'd heard Liz. Unfortunately.
I didn't even bother
with Liz. Instead, I took off after Isabel who was headed
back into the small sea of our supposed friends. Instead
of dragging her out of the room, I just took my
respective seat next to her, where I had been
earlier..and pulled a cover over the both of us, so that
I could take her hand in mine.
After that, no one ever
said anything. Though, now, thinking back...I almost wish
they would have. Maybe then, we would have been forced to
deal with the outside world. Not just ourselves. I think
that's why she had this undeniable fascination with the
shower. It was like a hiding place to her. A place that
seemed to wash away anything and everything around her. A
place where no one could bother her. Or us. But I never
could deny her anything. So I didn't stop it. "I
need a shower," she'd say, and I would follow her
without hesitation.
I didn't know then, that
taking those times for granted, was wrong. I miss them
now. I miss the feel of the almost unbearably hot water,
cascading over our bodies. I miss feeling her lips on my
skin. On my breasts. My stomach. My thighs...and the
sensitive flesh between them. I can still feel her
tongue. The way she used it to touch me so intimately, in
places that I'd never imagined being touched. I didn't
know, then, how much I would miss being able to return
the favors. I didn't know that there would be a day when
I wouldn't be able to touch her anymore.
I try not to think about
that now. I try not to think about the reason she's not
here anymore. I try not to think about how quiet this
house is. I try profusely to pretend that any moment now
she's going to walk back through the front door and tell
me that everything is okay. That she's not really gone.
That I didn't really lose her. I keep expecting her to
come home and tell me that it was all a joke. A cruel
joke.
Everybody knew that Alex
was jealous of my friendship with Isabel. I never thought
that Liz would have confided in him. I never would have
thought that she would tell him the truth about what
really went on when they weren't here. I never would have
thought that he would confront Isabel. That he would flip
out the way that he did. Even Alex is gone now too. No
one knows, to this day, what he was thinking when he
stole his dad's gun. No one can figure out what possessed
him to come to the Crashdown and pull it on her. Everyone
found out then, about the two of us. About what had been
going on. Everyone but Max and Michael. They weren't
there when Alex was shouting his pain. Shouting his
feelings of hatred towards Isabel and I, for making him
crazy.
He pulled the trigger.
Whether he had intended to, or not, I don't know. But he
did. I didn't know how to save her. It wasn't a power
that I had learned to use yet. I tried. Believe me, when
I say that I tried. But it wasn't any use. By the time
that Liz had called the paramedics and the time they
finally got there...she was gone. She was gone before the
thought of calling even crossed their minds. So was Alex,
though, not literally. He pulled the gun on himself, but
it didn't kill him. Unfortunately for him. I know that he
didn't really mean to hurt her. To take her away from me.
But he did. He did and now he has to live with
that...wherever they put him.
Healing is Max's
specialty.
I know now, that even if
he had been there, it wouldn't have made much difference.
I held her there, on the floor as she bled to death,
rocking her as though she were a baby. In a way she was.
She was *my* baby. My Isabel. I don't regret lying to her
in that brief moment, telling her that she was going to
be okay, even though we both knew that she wasn't. I
don't regret it, because the truth was, everything
between us, until that very moment, had been a lie
anyway. That was yesterday though, and today is a new
day.
We buried Isabel this
morning.
I want to lie, still,
and continue to sugarcoat the truth by saying that we
buried her in a really nice place. But I can't bring
myself to say it. Why *do* people say that anyway?
There's never anything nice about burying someone in the
cold dirt of a cruel earth that knows nothing about being
born and dying. A cruel earth that is about
nothing but taking and taking, until it's taken
everything you've got. And at this very moment, I can't
do anything but curse that same God that I still
don't believe in, for taking her away from me.
She was my life, my
heart and my soul. My Isabel.
I fought to stand as we
watched them lower her into the ground. The people said
that it wasn't custom for us to do so, but they didn't
stop us. They said that somehow it makes it harder for
people to let go of their loved ones. I don't know how
that could be true. There is nothing more real than
watching the person you love, with every fiber of your
being, be put into the ground. And over something so
petty. Over someone who didn't know how to handle not
having what they wanted so badly.
I suppose that someone
told Max and Michael the reason for all of this. The
reason that Alex lost it. It seemed to be the furthest
thing from their minds as they stood there supporting me,
knowing that I couldn't stand on my own. I know it was
hard for them to watch them take her away for good. That
final goodbye is always the hardest. For me, it felt as
though I was watching myself being lowered into that dark
hole.
Everyone is here now. In
my house. Trampling all over everything that she's
touched. I can only think about how they think they're
helping, by being here, when they're really not. When all
they're really doing is taking more of her away from me.
Max, he doesn't know
that the door he's leaning against is the door that
Isabel pinned me to, just before we left the other day,
heading to the Crashdown. He doesn't know that the door
he's leaning against is where we stood kissing, for more
than ten minutes, unable to tear ourselves away from each
other long enough to leave.
Michael. He doesn't know
that the couch he's sitting on is the couch where we last
made love. That it's the last place I'll remember being
with her. He doesn't know that I feel like I'll never be
able to sit there again, without remembering the last
place she touched me before we fell asleep there.
Liz, she doesn't know
that the chair she's sitting in is the last place where I
curled up in Isabel's lap to watch tv. Or that it's the
last place where we watched our favorite movie together.
In the kitchen, Maria doesn't know that the table she's
sitting at with the Sheriff is the last place Isabel and
I sat reading the paper.
None of them know
anything. They don't know what they're doing by merely
being here, and I can't seem to take it anymore, so I
excuse myself. Max asks me if I'm okay, even though he
knows that I'm not, when I say that I am. So he walks me
upstairs, helping me into bed. For some reason, he
doesn't leave, but instead, takes a seat next to the bed.
I found that I had curled myself into the fetal position
under my covers, hoping that I wouldn't cry.
Not there. Not then.
But I did. And I felt
Max reach up to stroke my hair, kiss my forehead and tell
me that everything was going to be okay. He knows that
things will never be the same...but says that eventually,
they'll be okay. Something in me knows that he's right.
But I don't want him to be. I don't want to know that
she's gone. That she's never coming back. I don't want to
come to terms with the fact that someone took her away
from me so easily. Then again, I guess no one could blame
me for that. Who really wants to believe that the person
they love is really gone?
I felt like a child
again without her here. Like I was lost. So I slept. I
slept for what seemed like forever and a day. And when I
woke up, she was still gone. But Max wasn't. He had moved
to a chair and fallen asleep. I don't know what he
thought he was doing by staying here. Helping I guess. It
was of little comfort. But it was something I guess. Some
small contribution, for not being there to save her. So
now he was going to feel like it was his duty to watch
over me, now that Isabel was gone.
I got up, intending to
do what, I don't know. When Max woke up I was merely
wandering around my bedroom, touching things that Isabel
had touched, smelling her scent on the other pillow in my
bed. Holding things that she'd held. He watched me for a
while before standing up to put his arms around me. I
know that he wanted to tell me again, that things would
be alright...but this time he didn't. I broke down then,
crumbling in his arms, unable to bear the weight of
standing. He folded me into his arms, understanding my
pain. Understanding that I needed that moment, to let out
everything that I had been holding in. He held me until
he couldn't stand anymore either, going down to the floor
with me, rocking me in his arms.
I don't know how long
this went on. Days maybe. A repetitive process of
sleeping and crying in his arms like a baby. Only
stopping long enough for me to shower and for him to go
home long enough to check in with his mom and dad, to
make sure that they, too, were doing okay. I don't
remember eating much either. He tells me that I've lost
too much weight and that I don't look healthy anymore.
But that doesn't really matter now, anyway. I'm just a
shell of the person I used to be when she was here.
People say that the pain
gets less with each day that goes by. Those people lie.
Those people lie to make themselves feel better about
forgetting. Not that they forget because they want to.
But because they need to, to be able to go on with their
lives.
Me. I don't want to go
on with my life. I just want back what was taken from me.
My Isabel.
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