Disclaimers ~ These characters belong to me. If they have a passing resemblance to you or share your name, it’s purely coincidental.
Bad language ~ No.
Love/sex ~ A love that spans a life time between two women. If this offends you, you’re in the wrong place. Go back now and forget you were ever here!
Author’s note ~ A few of you asked and I wasn’t going to, but then my creative side kicked in and gave me the idea on how to wrap this up. So, here it is. The sequel to Do you remember. Enjoy.
Questions, comments & thoughts all welcome. Loves_to_write_fic@yahoo.co.uk
I remember the day we met.
It was your first day at school. I could tell because you had that scared rabbit look, holding your books close to your chest, eyes darting around trying to take everything in. You were beautiful. All the guys thought so and said so. I did too. I knew I had to know you, I had to get you to notice me. So, I did the only thing I could do. I picked on you.
Yeah, not the smartest thing to do, or the nicest. But I got your attention. Your blue eyes on me as I tormented you. That first thrill as I realised you now knew who I was. I made that first day hell for you, just so you would notice me!
After a few days it wasn’t so cool. As the week went on, I watched as others picked up on what I was doing and started targeting you as well. It didn’t feel so great when you would spot me coming and run off as quick as you could. It didn’t feel so great when, unable to spot you anywhere, I would stumble across you hiding away in the shadows. I knew then I had probably blown my chance of ever getting to know you.
By Friday I found out where you lived. I convinced some girl you had made friends with that I wasn’t going to do anything bad, I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour. I saw your surprise when you saw me standing on your doorstep. You gave me your “I want to run away but can’t” look and I knew I had to get what I came to do out of the way before you slammed the door on me. I apologised, smiling sheepishly. I did consider falling to my knees to beg forgiveness and tell you what an idiot I was, but hey, I had a reputation to uphold.
After that day, I looked out for you. When other kids picked on you and made your day hell, I dished out broken noses and black eyes. People quickly learnt the tables had turned and I was now protecting you. They left you alone after that and you looked at me and would smile the most beautiful smile on earth, making me feel like I was worth all the gold in the world.
I remember meeting your parents for the first time.
We had become friends and were pretty much inseparable and one weekend you invited me around to your house.
I was so nervous, convinced you must have told your parents about me bullying you at first. I was sure they were going to hate me, maybe yell at me for what I had done. My hands were sweating as you lead me into your house and through to the kitchen, wishing with every step that I had made some excuse not to come. I hid behind your smaller body as we came to a stop in front of your parents, both of them sitting at the table smiling at us.
“So, you’re Mel, are you?” your dad asked, his voice gruff.
“Ye-...yes?” it came out more like a question than an answer.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled. I thought it was some sort of trap. I would relax and then...Bam. “Abby has gone on and on about you,” he said, still smiling.
Your mum held out a plate of cookies. “It was very nice of you to look after her, Mel. I for one am very grateful.” I almost swallowed my tongue. It seemed you hadn’t told them how we had started out. “It can be very hard going to a new school. I’m glad Abby had someone like you to look after her and show her around.”
I looked at you, my eyes wide in shock and saw the smile on your lips. A soft smile that I recognise now and know the meaning to.
I remember our first kiss.
By this time we were fifteen and had known each other just over two years. We were on a school camping trip and you had, of course, paired up with me.
It was late, dark outside and everyone silent. We couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep because you were in such close proximity. Sure, we’d had sleep-overs at each others houses, but this was different.
“Truth or dare,” you said quietly.
I blinked in surprise, then frowned as I tried to figure out which option would be safer. “Truth,” I replied after some thought.
“Do you ever think about...kissing?” you asked, almost shyly.
Hell, yeah I thought about it. But I couldn’t say that ‘cause then you would’ve asked who and I couldn’t possibly tell you for fear of losing the greatest friend I’d ever had. I switched to dare. No dare could be as bad. Only then you dared me to kiss you! I had been wanting to for the longest time, often finding myself staring at your lips as you talked to me or others around us. Watching you nibble on your bottom lip as you tried to work out some homework problem. Now you had asked me to and this was my opportunity.
In the small enclosed darkness of our tent, I fidgeted nervously, remaining quiet, wondering if this was some sort of joke. Silently, I argued with myself, wanting to kiss you and trying to talk myself into actually doing it. I must have taken too long because then you double dared me and suddenly I had no choice. I couldn’t back down to a double dare.
Swallowing nervously, I inched closer to you, feeling your rapid breath stirring my hair, seeing your tongue trail along your lips. Our lips met and I thought I would pass out from the sheer bliss of it! We pulled away and both of us scooted back to our designated sides of the tent. I stared up in a daze, my lips tingling from their brief meeting with yours. I wanted to tell you how great it was, how I wanted to do it again, maybe for longer and somehow involving our tongues, which the guys had told me about. But then I realised you hadn’t said anything and began to fear you didn’t like it, or maybe thought me odd for kissing you in the first place.
“That was nice,” you blurted out.
I’ve never felt so relieved! I smiled brightly, a beaming smile which you returned. I was on my back and you quickly cuddled up to my side and that’s how we slept. I never wanted to move.
I remember the first time we made love.
We were roommates by this time and it was our anniversary. Our third year as a couple. I wanted to make it special, it was my chance to show you how much I loved you, how much I really cared. I rarely said the words, so this was my opportunity to show you.
I waited until you left for your classes, then raced around to your mum and begged her to help me. I wanted to make you your favourite meal and have it in a romantic setting and I could barely make toast without burning it!
She smiled and put her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t look so worried, Mel. Of course I’ll help you.”
She took me food shopping, telling me what she was picking out like I was five years old. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way, but that’s how I felt. I watched closely, hoping to remember everything. With our supplies, we went back to the flat and into the kitchen. Your mum was ever so patient, I really don’t know why she didn’t throttle me! The first dish I dropped, the second I burnt, but, finally, I got it and it was perfect. Though it was the tester.
Your mum wrote down all the instructions for me to follow once it was actually time to begin the real meal and with a wave left. I showered and changed into something smart, then went about creating our romantic atmosphere. I started in the bathroom, placing those little multicoloured candles you love so much around the bathtub. Then it was on to the living room. I went about it like I was creating a master piece, a candle here, one over there, standing back and carefully placing another. Finally, give or take a minute or two as I poked a candle this way and that trying to get it perfect, I went back to the kitchen to start my preparations.
With time slipping from me, the meal was in the oven, the bathtub was filled and waiting for you, the candles lit. I sat down to take a well deserved breather, closed my eyes...and jumped up as I convinced myself something was burning. I was in the kitchen fretting over the food when you came home from work.
I tried to appear calm as I walked out of the kitchen to greet you. I smiled lovingly as I saw you standing open-mouthed just inside the front door. “Hello, love,” I greeted softly, kissing you softly on waiting lips. You seemed to be in shock so I took your coat and hung it up for you, then gently took your hand and led you to the bathroom.
“Has there been a power cut?” you asked in amusement, looking around the candle lit bathroom.
Bloody cheek! I smiled and pinched you on the butt. “Get in and relax,” I told you, starting to undo the buttons on your blouse. Starting to burn with desire as I watched more and more skin come into sight, I realised I had to leave or we wouldn’t be eating any time soon. “I’ll call you when dinner is almost ready,” I told you, turning quickly and leaving before I could change my mind.
I checked the food and it was all coming along nicely. I opened the bottle of wine I had purchased under your mum’s guidance, rearranged the cutlery and placed napkins beside the two plates I had already set out. Then I had time on my hands. Sighing nervously I took a seat on the sofa.
Everything was ready when I called you out of the bath. I was standing next to our small dinner table, dishing up your favourite meal when you emerged from the bathroom dressed only in your bathrobe, your long blonde hair still wet and hanging loose. I nearly swallowed my tongue at the strong rush of desire I felt for you. You looked impressed by the set-up, fingertips tracing the linen table-cloth I had put on the table. “Don’t be too impressed,” I told you, smiling sheepishly. “Your mum helped. A lot.”
You smiled and approached to kiss my cheek. “I love you for the effort you’ve put in,” you whispered, making me glow with pride.
Over dinner we talked about how our days had gone and discussed what classes we had the following day, well, you talked I mainly watched you. We ate dessert in front of the television. I had brought a sinfully good double chocolate cake and, after assuring you it wouldn’t go straight to your hips, convinced you to try it. We fed each other small bites from each of our plates, then settled back to watch some movie. I can’t remember which. It doesn’t really matter because it was quickly forgotten.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and finally I leaned in and started nibbling on your ear lobe. Then I softly kissed my way down your neck, breathing in your familiar scent from those bath oils. I’m not sure exactly how, but you were soon straddling my lap, slowing grinding against me, driving me insane. Your hands were running through my hair, fingers massaging my head as we kissed passionately.
I ran my hands slowly up and down your back, then your sides. You felt so good. Finally, I manoeuvred you onto your back, me taking up a position on top of you, between your legs, both of us grinding helplessly against each other seeking more contact. I sensed that it was time. This time we were going to move our relationship to the next level, a more intimate level. I reached down for the belt that was holding your robe closed, thoughts on the beautiful body that lay beneath, when you stopped me. I couldn’t believe it, I felt sure the moment was right.
You smiled lovingly and kissed the end of my nose. Which you know I hate. “Take me to bed,” you whispered. I quickly forgave you for the nose kiss.
We made love. We spent endless hours being soft and gentle as we explored each other in a way we never had before. We kissed, licked, caressed and nipped, as we found out what we liked, what felt good, what made the other moan and writhe. It was...amazing.
Afterwards, you reclined back against the headboard and I lay in your arms, smiling happily as you stroked your fingers gently through my hair.
I remember when we broke up.
I was sitting on the sofa reading through a book for class when someone knocked on the front door. Glancing at the clock, I figured you had forgotten your keys and jumped up to let you in.
It wasn’t you.
It was Julie, one of our neighbours.
“Hi, Mel,” she greeted, smiling brightly. She always put me on edge for some reason. “Can I borrow some sugar? I’ve run out and rather than run down to the shop, I thought...”
“Yeah, sure.” I figured I could be nice and do the neighbourly thing. I turned to head for the kitchen. “Do you have a cup or...” I turned to ask, only to be pinned to the wall by a topless Julie. “What the hell!”
“I really like you, Mel. I’ve seen the little glances you give me. We belong together, I know you can feel it too.”
As she pressed her mouth hard to mine I tried to shove her off. The front door opened and there you were. I saw it. The look. The “I want to run but can’t” look. Only this time was different. This time you dropped everything and turned and ran. “Abby, wait! I can explain!” But you were gone. Growling in anger and hurting because you were hurt, I shoved Julie away from me. “Get out! And don’t ever come near me again!”
With wide eyes, she opened her mouth to say something, only to change her mind. She grabbed her shirt and left and I was alone. I replayed what had happened over and over in my head, tears of frustration burning my eyes. Standing up from where I had collapsed, I saw it was dark out and ran a hand through my dishevelled hair as I tried to think where you could be. Rushing over to the phone, I called all of your friends, then our friends. None of them had seen you. That only left one place. Your parents.
I dialled the familiar number and waited. I interrupted their dinner. Apologising, I nervously asked if you were there. Your mum hesitated, then said no, she hadn’t seen you. I knew she was lying and told her I would call back after she had finished her meal. The next time I called it was your dad and he told me the same lie. Getting late in the evening I tried again, begging your mum to let me talk to you, she adamantly insisted you weren’t there. Finally, for the last time that night, I got your dad. I told him I knew you were there, I just needed confirmation so I wouldn’t worry all night. He confirmed it, then quietly asked what was going on. He told me you hadn’t said a word, but had turned up in tears. That broke my heart, to know that you were hurting so badly. I told him it had been a little misunderstanding and I just needed to talk to you to sort it out. He told me to try the next day.
Which I did. I called early, waking your poor parents up. I hadn’t slept, the bed was too big and too empty without you beside me. I got your mum. She wasn’t impressed by my early morning call and curtly told me you were sleeping. The second time was your mum as well, she told me she would tell you I had called and would get you to ring back. Guess she was sick of me phoning up.
You didn’t call all day. I skipped school and sat by the phone, waiting. Every other half hour I would pick up the phone to check it was still working, convinced something must be wrong with it because you hadn’t phoned. Morning turned into afternoon, then afternoon into evening and you still hadn’t phoned. I decided to head around to your parents house. If I could just see you I could make things right.
Your dad answered the door and stood blocking my entry. He shook his head sadly as I asked to see you, he told me you didn’t want any visitors and that he wouldn’t disturb you so late in the evening. I ended up begging, tears in my eyes, my heart breaking as I realised just how serious this was. He wouldn’t budge and backed up to close the door. “Go home, Mel. She’ll call when she’s ready.”
I went back to our flat. Our home. Alone. It wasn’t home without you. Unsure what to do, dejected, hurt and angry, I sat in the dark staring at nothing, my thoughts all on you.
You didn’t call that week, didn’t come by even. Or the next. I was a wreck, I looked a wreck. I couldn’t sleep, barely ate, in class my thoughts remained on you. I clung to the belief that this would work itself out, you would realise I would never cheat on you and would come home. You had to, we belonged together. The third week I came home from class one evening and knew, as soon as I stepped in, that you had been there. The scent of your perfume lingered. Ecstatic, I rushed through the flat calling out for you, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in my arms and never let go. Only you weren’t there. And neither were half your clothes, your diary that you wrote faithfully in, or your treasured music box. You had left me. You had left me all without a single word or a note.
It hurt. It hurt so bad that you obviously didn’t trust me. That you would think I would cheat on you. That you would completely cut me out of your life without giving me a chance to talk to you. I stopped calling for you after that. There was nothing more I could do.
I remember when we got back together.
I hadn’t seen or heard from you in six months, hadn’t even seen you around. Your friends would tell me nothing, going strangely silent as I approached and all conversation was awkward and tense. In the end I gave up on them, politely waving when I saw them but not stopping.
I tortured myself with thoughts of you maybe dating someone else. I imagined you depressed and doing something stupid. Imagined you leaving town and never coming back. I knew you were still around, I checked with the school and you were still registered as a student.
I was walking towards my next class, hating the damn good day we seemed to be having, mocking me with its brightness and warmth, bringing out happy couples to lounge on the grass and to stroll hand in hand. Then I glanced up and there you were. Strolling towards me, a happy grin on your lips.
Your eyes widened as you spotted me, your steps faltering as we came closer and closer. As I stopped in front of you I saw the “I want to run away but can’t” look and knew that I had to quickly explain or spend the rest of my life cursing myself for missing my opportunity.
“She said she needed sugar, so I let her in,” I told you honestly. “I walked to the kitchen and as I turned around to ask if she had a cup or something, she pinned me to the wall.”
Your eyes widened again and you gasped. I hoped it was a sign that you believed what I was saying.
“Her top was gone and she was telling me how much she liked me and that we belonged together,” I hastily carried on. “You walked in as I was trying to wrestle her off.” You looked doubtful, not sure if I was making it up, not sure if you should believe me. I suddenly realised that this really could be the end of us and my heart broke again, memories of our life together spinning through my head. I had to show you that you were the only one, that you were what I wanted forever. I dropped to my knees and pulled out a small jewellery box from my jacket pocket, opening it and holding it out to you.
“Marry me, Abby. I can’t be without you. I don’t want to be without you,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.
You sank to your knees in front of me, tears in your eyes, as you wrapped your arms around me. “I love you so much, Mel. I love you so very much!”
Pulling back out of the embrace, I looked deep into your eyes seeking the answers to all the questions I had. You loved me. You still loved me. There was hope, there had to be.
“It’s going to take time, Mel. But, yes, I will marry you. One day.”
I cried then, not caring who was watching us. I was so happy, relieved, loved. I managed a smile and leaned forward to kiss you softly. “That’s all I can hope for.”
I remember our wedding.
I thought it was going to be a small, simple affair. Perhaps just us. Maybe our parents as well. It turned out you wanted the fairy tale you had always dreamed of and there was no way I could refuse you. Whatever you wanted, you got. Well, almost. There is just no way I was ever going to wear a dress!
In front of all our family and close friends, we stood in front of Father Michaels and beneath the eyes of God and vowed to each other that we would love and honour each other for all of time.
You looked...breathtaking. You had chosen a white, off-the-shoulders wedding dress, with matching white shoes. Your blonde hair was neatly pinned up and accompanied by some sort of flower tied in. I don’t know what it was, but it added to your beauty. Your father proudly walked you down the aisle, shooting a wink my way before stepping back to stand next to your crying mum.
It was a nice ceremony and I will remember it always. The weather was perfect, you were amazing and everyone was there to see us vow to be together always. Or maybe to see me crying. Which I did as you said “I do.”
I remember the wedding reception.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And you always seemed to know when my eyes were on you. No matter who you were talking to or dancing with, green eyes would turn my way and you would bestow upon me that special smile of yours, making me smile in return and fall in love with you all over again.
As I held you in my arms as we floated around the dance floor, oblivious to all those around us, you placed soft teasing kisses on my neck and sighed happily in my ear. My heart expanded with love and I quickly sent up thanks to those above for bringing you back to me.
I remember our honeymoon.
Two weeks in heaven, otherwise known as Barbados. I didn’t care where we were and I didn’t care if we never left our ocean view room, but you were adamant we would go out and do tourist things like sight-seeing and taking photos to prove we actually went there. We strolled along the warm sandy beach, days and nights, hand in hand, talking of what we wanted in our future. We made love everywhere, revelling in our new life as a married couple.
I remember our good news.
I came home from work and you were sitting in the living room, reclining on our sofa looking oh so beautiful. Smiling wolfishly, I bent over and kissed you softly on the lips. “How about an early night?” I asked grinning.
“Sounds like I lovely idea,” you smiled, returning my kiss. “I got you a gift.”
I turned to see where you were pointing and stood up straight as I spotted the plain box. “Have I forgotten an anniversary?” I asked nervously.
“No, my love.”
Still unsure, I quickly worked out I had indeed not forgotten an anniversary or your birthday. I picked up the box and joined you on the sofa, perching on the edge as you shifted to make room for me. Taking the lid off, I grinned in childish pleasure. “Bubble wrap! You got me bubble wrap!” I happily pulled it out and started popping the little circles.
“You big goof!” you chuckled, slapping my arm. “Beneath the bubble wrap.”
I kissed you again and reluctantly put down my bubble wrap, vowing to return to it later. Eyes returning to the box, I blinked and blinked again at the white stick I saw. Picking it up, I stared at it and knew, without you telling me, what the two pink lines meant. We had decided to start a family and you were pregnant! We spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the sofa, talking and dreaming of what was to come.
At a family barbecue that weekend we told both sets of parents. You hadn’t wanted to so soon, but they thought it strange that you refused your usual glass of wine. So our good news came out and we were all blissfully happy. Life was so good and getting better.
I remember when I nearly lost you.
Our happy life collapsed two weeks after we had told our families about the pregnancy. You miscarried. As you fell into a deep despair, crying for the life we had lost, wailing that it was your fault, that it was my fault, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make it better.
I did what I could whenever you needed me. I stayed strong for you, cooked meals for you to eat, cleaned the house, took care of telling our parents. I held you through the crying, listening as you vented your despair and your rage. I gave you space when you lashed out blaming me, I knew you didn’t mean it, even when you tried to push me away. I quickly returned when you did need my arms around you.
I waited for you to fall asleep before grieving myself. I knew you didn’t need my grief on top of your own. Only one night, so lost as I sat on the kitchen floor crying my heart out, I didn’t hear you approach. It wasn’t until you crouched in front of me and took me into your arms that I realised I was no longer alone. You gently rocked us as I continued crying and whispered words of love in ear. We both knew things would sort themselves out, we would carry on, together.
I remember celebrating my promotion.
It was our third wedding anniversary, you were pregnant and I had finally gotten the promotion I had been working so hard for. Our lives were perfect, everything was slotting into place.
At the party thrown in my honour by my boss, I proudly stood by your side as you charmed every one of my colleagues, happily gloated as they told me how lucky I was to have you, and delighted in dancing with you.
At the end of the evening, you were driving us home, I was in the passenger seat unable to stop staring at you, a content smile on my lips. You were so beautiful, always had been. Now pregnant, you had almost a glow about you. I loved you more and more each time I looked your way.
“What?” you asked softly, glancing my way with a loving smile on your lips.
“You are so beautiful,” I told you as I undid my seat-belt. Needing to be as close to you as I could be, I slid closer to you, my hand resting on your thigh, gently caressing. “I love you so much, Abby.” Realising there was another member of our family now, I moved my hand up to your slight baby bump that your proudly displayed to me every morning and evening as you dressed or undressed. “I love you both. Never forget that.”
You reached down and covered my hand with your own, squeezing tenderly. “I know, sweetheart. I love...sorry, we love you just as much.”
All was right in the world as I slid back over to my seat, we’d had a wonderful evening, you knew I loved you and the baby dearly. It couldn’t get any better.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash and knew as my stomach twisted in fear that life was about to change.
I remember our car being hit.
I prayed, as I saw that car speeding towards us, that you and the baby would be all right. I groaned and felt immense pain as he hit my side of the car, sending us spinning into oncoming traffic. The shattering of glass raining in on us, the crunching of metal, you screaming my name, then as a truck came at us head on, it suddenly went black.
Your voice. Soft and gentle, loving, tearful, happy, angry. I can’t work out all that you say, but I recognise bits and pieces. Me turning up at your house. The first time we made love. Kisses and whispered words of love. Don’t leave me. Please, stay with me, whispered over and over so close to my ear.
A strange beep, beep, beep and pain before sinking back into dark depths.
Your father telling me not to break your heart. You need me. The baby needs me. Both sets of parents need me. Need me to fight, need me to come back. “I’ll never forgive you if you die on her.”
You next to me, holding my hand, whispering our story into my ear again.
The steady beep, beep, beep.
A kick, maybe a punch, maybe a somersault. “Did you feel that, love?” your whispered words. “That’s our baby moving. I’m bigger now. I wish you could see. I wish...” A sob and I feel bad, my heart aches to think of you hurt. You’re upset, crying and I don’t know what to do. Can’t do anything. “You have so much to live for, Mel. We have known each other since we were thirteen, have officially been together since we were fifteen. We have loved each other almost our whole lives,” you tell me. “It is not your time yet. So, I’ll wait. I know for now you are lost to me, but I’m sure you’ll find your way back. You promised me forever, do you remember?”
Floating. Floating in darkness, then suddenly I was aware. Aware that I was awake, but not quite awake. Sounds, soft voices, pain, a gentle touch. Not quite able to open my eyes, I summoned all my strength into squeezing the soft hand that held my own.
“Mel? Honey, can you hear me?” your voice, shocked, elated, a little afraid.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk now.” A soft kiss.
I remember waking up to you.
I opened my eyes a minute, an hour, a day, maybe a week later. The blinding fluorescent light above hurting my eyes and making me groan. “Abby?” I croaked. And there you were, leaning forward, tears rolling down your cheeks, still looking as beautiful as ever.
“Hello, sweetheart,” you greeted in a tight voice. “Welcome back. I knew you wouldn’t leave me!” You kissed my nose. Maybe one day I’ll tell you I hate that.
I managed a smile. “Never.”
I remember all those memories.
I remember and can smile now as I stand and watch the sunset, the sky pink and purple. Your favourite colours. I remember each memory fondly, even those bad moments between us.
“Penny for them?” you say softly from behind me.
I turn and smile brightly as you approach, holding our daughter, our beautiful daughter who looks just like you. Her blonde hair is wild and you want to cut it, but I won’t let you. I find it far too funny when she wakes up and it’s all on end! “Was just thinking over all our memories,” I tell you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you stop at my side.
“The good, the bad, and the ugly, huh?”
I smirk. “Mainly our honeymoon.” I get the blush I was hoping for.
“You brute!” you tease. “It’s this little one’s bedtime.”
I bend and kiss her little head and your cheek. “I’ll be in soon, I have plans for you, wife,” I grin as you blush again.
“Don’t be out here too long. You know your leg aches in the cold.” Kissing me, I watch as you turn and walk back towards the house.
Its true. Ever since the accident, whenever it gets really cold, my leg starts to ache painfully. It was shattered when the drunk hit us and I still walk with a limp, always will according to the doctors.
Turning, I make my way back to our home, no need to stay out any longer. Everything I need is inside.
Upstairs I stand in the nursery doorway and smile lovingly as I watch you singing to the baby. I remember promising you forever and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Return to the Academy