Chapter 20: Almost Lover

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We spent the day together. Lisa couldn't speak to me when her parents were around but I didn't mind; her eyes were saying enough. Her voice had said enough earlier in the morning. I'll hear those words forever. I'll believe them forever.

Lisa's parents didn't buy her anything, they just gave her a thick wad of cash and told her to buy what she wanted because they didn't know what she liked. She didn't seem fazed by it and I'm wondering if it's a regular occurrence in their family. I was surprised when Lisa asked Christine to go outside with her to talk. I'm not sure what was said but her mother handed her a small business card that was put directly into her pocket.

I want to know why Christine can be cold one minute and lukewarm the next. I remember the night I scared Lisa and Christine assured her that it was just a dream and go back to sleep. I wonder why she can't always be like that. I wonder why it isn't instinctive for her to be like that.

When her parents weren't watching, I quickly put a Santa hat on Lisa and smiled when she didn't even attempt to remove it. She looked adorable. My hands were painful for about an hour afterward but it was a small price to pay.

They didn't have a traditional Christmas lunch or dinner that my family would have had, but maybe it was traditional for them. They did however, have champagne. Lisa raised her glass briefly and mumbled out, "Merry Christmas and all that jazz."

It wasn't long after that Lisa's father informed her that he would be going out shortly with her mother. He didn't invite Lisa. She didn't say anything, but I could tell by her eyes that she was disappointed; disappointed, but not surprised. I thought that if Lisa wasn't going to do something about it then I would. I walked around the table to stand behind Christine and I pulled on a lock of her hair twice, causing her to spin around and look behind her.

I was smiling as soon as I heard Lisa laugh and I smiled even wider when Christine asked her what was so funny and she just replied, "Angels."

When lunch was over, she told me to wait downstairs and said she would come and get me in a little while. At first, I thought I had somehow upset her, then I thought maybe she was taking a nap. I blushed at my last thought. It wasn't any of them. I heard her talking but I couldn't hear what was being said, I could just hear her voice. I assumed she was on the phone but I didn't ask her about it.

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I would ask her now but I don't want to break the comfortable silence we've had for the last twenty minutes. The lights on the wall are making her eyes sparkle again and I can't look away. I want to move over and be closer to her, I want to feel how warm and soft she is, I want to pretend the heartbeat I'm positive I will feel is my own. But I don't. I don't, because I can never really do much more than breathe when she looks into my eyes.

"I don't want to go tomorrow," Lisa says almost inaudibly.

"I know," I reply. And I really do. I swear I do.

She needs to see my grave because it's different than her not being able to see or hear me. The time she told me that she couldn't hear how I died because then it would be real is coming back into play. When she sees my tombstone, she will see the proof; she'll see those two dates engraved into the marble and she will see the dash between those two dates, the dates where I had a heartbeat.

During that time, I thought I had all the time in the world to do anything and everything that I wanted, I just didn't think it would end almost before it even began. The silly thing is, everybody thinks that. They think that they have all the time in the world, but they don't. Everybody has time and it's never exactly how much you want, but it's there, you have it. Make the most of it.

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