Ch 8 Supper Reminiscing

(Note the date) March 9: So I'm supposed to be relaxing right now because I'm taking this American standardized test tomorrow…. And by relaxing, I decided to look up prospective Jesses. My expectations were little to nothing, but Holy COW. I found this gorgeous model, and he is phe-NOMENAL…! Maybe I'll post a link or something…but this guy seriously is something special.

And this new 2007 Word is…interesting…very bubbly. Maybe that's just me.

Thanks to my awesome reviewers!! You guys seriously rock.

April 15, 2009 (um…yeah, about that…)

Okay…soo…I scrapped this chapter and redid it. And I'm much happier with it. Sorry for the wait. I'm on spring break right now, and instead of hitting the beaches (hah, funny in Michigan…and with its economy…) I decided to update. Mind you, I could be watching foreign films (Amelie…Cinema Paradiso…La Vita e Bella…), reading, studying for my exams, cleaning, working on my research…but I'm updating instead.

I actually Google mapped Jesse's "home" so if you're interested, let me know. "Stalking" a fictional character is always fun!

And I wanted to photoshop the perfect Jesse. =/ is there a way to get a poll (with pictures) up? I want input on my selections that I want to merge (evil maniacal laugh). Thanks. =]

April 19, 2009

Editing.

April 24, 2009 (5:55 pm, my goal is to get this OUT!)

Shout outs, hear we go:

Blue-Eyed Chica: Heh…heh…I'm not going to give too much away… but I'm glad my writing foreshadows potential happenings…=D

I want to be Jesse's girl: Gosh, the whole "one-review-per-chapter" deal…it does get irritating after a bit. "rofl…'me in the flesh…'" Thank you SO MUCH; I'm glad you think my story is epic…but I have to give credit to Meg Cabot. =p Gosh, your reviews always make me SO HAPPY and INSPIRED. Jesse is totally sexy…and I think I found the perfect Jesse. But I need a better shot. He's the model I mentioned above. Indeed, fictional guys ROCK!! Again, I love your reviews. And I know it seems like I don't think of your reviews and stuff, but honestly, sweetie, without these reviews, I wouldn't even bother. Poor self-suffering Jesse. What else can I do to him? =p Sorry for leaving you hanging. I'm sorry! I hope this update was worth the wait. Where do I buy my creativity? Gosh, I actually pull it out of my a—just kidding. I'm not sure. I had this plot since the 7th grade. I just suck at getting it out to you lovely lot. If I were Tinkerbell, I'd SO disperse some of it. =] Please don't melt into a puddle, should you ever meet Jesse—I mean, who else would leave me such lovely reviews? =] The Princess Diaries…gosh, I remember seeing those in the library at SUCH a young age, and only until recently did she finish it. I'd never want Mediator to get THAT long, but I did wish she'd give us just one more…=] I liked Twilight until it became a fad. =p Merry Christmas (much belated), Happy Easter, and etc! =]

Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: I'm glad you thought they were in character, other than the Suze being hysterical thing. But after all the crap she's been through, I know we all love the kick butt Suze, but I think she's entitled to some waterworks. I mean, heck, if I lost all my memories, I'd do more than cry. And even in the storyline, she's all "was idiocy a result of concussions" because she too is shocked at her reaction. But Suze gets over it pretty fast. =] She'll be back to normal, trust me. Thanks for the review.

LoonyLuna127: Gosh, sweetie, thanks for reviewing!! "couldn't stop reading." I'm sorry that I'm updating only one chapter. If I can get on the computer sooner, maybe ch 9 will be up. But we all know how terrible I am at that. =/

Satellite Falling: Gosh, you have no idea how long it took to get the conversation just right. And I seriously appreciate how you tell me the highlights of the chapter. Truly, I really appreciate that. I hoped that chapter had a ton of insight, grins, and giggles. =] Omg, I'm proud to say that the dialogue is all me, woohoo! =] I feel so great, being quoted. If I ever become a real author…=] Sister Stick-Up-My-Anus tehe. I seriously wish I could say some of this stuff aloud. Thanks—I'm glad my attempts at humor are not lost. Thank you so much for such a constructive review.

TeamTHEFT: Thanks!!

peppermintlyle: Hope this update isn't disappointing!

Literati Lover: Wow, my fanfic is a really short read!! =] well, considering that there are only 7 (now 8) chapters. Of course. I'm glad you really enjoy it. Spread the word to the masses. Tehe.

Musafreen: Glad it wasn't overly dramatic. =]

Cookiesruletheworld: Gosh, your penname is so great! I'm so sorry for rubbing it in your face, tehe. Umm…err…if I could, I'd totally send you some cookies. =]

*Suze rubbing in your face* I've got the cookie AND Jesse. Ha. =p

Aparul: Thanks for taking the effort to review. And Happy…err…Holidays…no matter how belated. If you think about it, I could be early—Christmas is in another 8 months! =p

JuuMasen:(cringe) Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Updating. I hope you smile at your inbox.

pinta08: Thanks SO much for reassuring me. And for reviewing.

Bre: Here you go, hon. I'm sorry for the wait.

Peppermintlyle: I didn't know this was the first fanfic you ever read. I'm seriously so sorry. I know I disappoint a ton of readers. =[

Shalu: What I absolutely hate in movies is when the protagonist gets ABSOLUTELY mortified. I hate it because I can't do anything about it. I won't make anything embarrassing for Suze, promise. I'm seriously sorry for the wait.

Is that it? Here we go, then.

Ch 8 Supper Reminiscing

As far as hugging went, David got to me first.

The first thing he did when he got back from school was drop off a backpack that sounded like a sonic blast, bound into my room, plop onto my bed, and hug me.

"You're up!"

The force of this energy actually pushed me into the pillows. But I was delighted that someone could be so excited to see me. I mean, even Max wasn't as thrilled as David was. In spite of myself, I felt my face split into a grin. Embarrassed, he disentangled himself from me. Hey—I didn't mind. I rather liked how he had no inhibitions on hugging me. You know. He was fearful of cracking a rib or something. "Hey, Doc, how was school?"

He told me how excited everyone was to hear that I didn't die overnight. (Gee…what faith—wasn't Junipero Serra a Catholic school or something?) I mentally rolled my eyes. He kept going on about how everyone was trying to throw me a surprise welcome-back party, and Adam was going to buy me a year's worth of flaming hot Cheetos. Then he sort of explained something that somewhat made sense until Andy called us to dinner. Doc, blushing, told me that if he were as "physically capable" as his brothers, he would attempt to carry me. He resorted to being my crutch instead. He was all gentlemanly and tried to help me down the stairs. Despite our care, we accidentally knocked over one of Mom's plants at the end of the stairs. We prayed to the plant gods that Mom's vendetta would not be great.

I was only on my first shrimp, and the still steaming plate was empty before I could grab a second.

Followed by a meaningful cough and a stern look from Andy, David sheepishly offered me his fifth shrimp. David, adorable thing that he was, wasn't the only one feeling guilty, though. Two other plates of surf & turf were thrust beneath my nose. It was thoughtful, thanks, guys, but I'd rather not have shrimp up my nose.

But the garnish came close. Yes, I know, I'm delectable. So delectable, in fact, that a garnish is just that extra pizazz.

It was weird, being spoiled like this, especially by my mom. She kept getting up to refill my glass after every other sip. "Is this too much ice? Should the cubes be more crushed? I don't think the ice is cold enough." I resisted the urge to tell them to jump into the sea and harpoon me Moby Dick's liver.

I had a horrible feeling this was going to keep up.

"Here," Dopey grunted, sort of giving his plate a shake. "I don't want cramps or anything—gotta work out tonight." Sleepy just looked tired of holding his plate.

Well, he didn't look as tired earlier. Interesting subject, that boy. Before David jumped me, Sleepy had knocked tentatively on my door. I barely had time to stash the letters beneath my pillow and grab the nearest magazine when he opened the door. He must have thought that I was out or something. I pretended I didn't even hear the knock, and flipped a page for affectation. Despite discovering the most alarming bit of fan mail (we learned the term "secret admirer" in kindergarten before we even learned its meaning; I did not expect to see it in a high school "hope you recover" letter), I was proud of my feigned indifference as I slowly peered over my W Magazine. Jake ventured further into my room, looking around cautiously as though the ceiling would collapse. Somehow, I had a hunch that this belief was justified by some past rendezvous. He must not frequent my room because he looked so out of place. He had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, wishing he were somewhere else. Well, that was fine with me. I wished I were somewhere else, too. Back in Jesse's apartment, in fact.

"Hey…!" I had set down my magazine and assessed the Californian in front of me. Shaggy hair. Built. Sleepy eyes. Something sparked. I remembered my conversation with David on the phone from earlier that day. Snow White, seven dwarfs. Couldn't have been Dopey, because the one in front of me didn't look completely dense…only tired. "…Jake, right?"

His shoulders eased a fraction of a centimeter. "Yeah." He gave me a really quick smile, and I sort saw why Gina was all gaga for him in one of her older letters. Good dental. The smile actually reached his eyes, too, eyes that I later realized were like Andy's, blue and twinkling.

Since I couldn't remember how I used to react in his presence, I gestured for him to come closer to where I was laying. I had been in that position since returning from Jesse's, and I did not intend to get up unless my bladder planned on combusting...if that were a word. He shuffled closer and we sort of just stayed like that.

Well, hell, I seriously had no idea how to react. I seriously couldn't remember if we were close or not. So hit me. We had just sort of stood there. Awkward. Well, sitting on my part. He looked ready to bolt.

Right. I was going to start spewing college talk when he reached into his back pocket. He must have done something out of character, too, because he sort of ran his hand through his hair and shoved a wrapped parcel (complete with a silver bow) in my face. "Here," he said gruffly, and refused to look me in the face. In retrospect, that was probably the only nice thing Jake will ever do for me. But whatever. I took the gift and looked up at him with an obvious question in my eyes.

What in God's name is this for?

He sort of shrugged. Well, it wasn't a shrug…it was more of a twitch. "I got used to you."

He paused at the door to say, "Stay out of trouble, will you?" and shuffled out before I could get to the unwrapping stage.

I was pretty sure that, when people gave gifts, it was customary to stay and watch for facial expressions or something. But this was California. With the California poppy as its state flower, who knew.

When I unwrapped the gift, I nearly dropped it. Which would have been completely inane of me because it was the most glorious bracelet I ever saw. That was saying a lot, considering that I still remembered my New York jewelry, and by the looks of my princess dressing table, I hadn't added much to my collection. An Oscar de la Renta bracelet. An emerald Oscar de la Renta bracelet. I took out the bracelet and down fluttered a note like a maple samara/whirligig, landing soundlessly onto my coverlet. I picked it up.

"Miss seeing you beat the shit out of Brad. Hope your memory comes back. The next sentence was written in a different pen, as if he haphazardly added it in. "And stay out of gangs."

So much for sentimentalities.

"Suze, you sure you don't want any more?" Andy asked. I jolted my head towards Andy and watched him eat…with utensils. It wasn't a genetic thing, then. The not-breathing-while-you-masticate thing.

I politely declined, and I mumbled something about how I'd take dry cereal. Besides, the guys were all so reluctant, as if I told them each time they masturbate, a Belgian supermodel dies.

Andy shot me a crooked smile and kidded, "Should have gotten here sooner."

I gave him a wry smile. "Is it my fault, really, that it takes sixteen minutes to maneuver down the stairs?"

"And you actually knocked over one of Mom's plants in the process. You know, the plants you avoided earlier," David reminded me cheekily, munching on his roll. Before I could register that David called Mom 'mom,' I reached over and messed up his red hair. "You weren't supposed to tell them that!" I kidded. He put on a faux-pout and tried to fix his hair, grinning from sticky-out ear to sticky-out ear. I could feel everyone staring at us. Oh, whatever saints existed…if there was one good thing that came out of this mess, it was my new friendship with my stepbrother.

Following this display of probably unusual affection, I pushed out my chair.

"I guess I'll go get that cereal."

I didn't mind too much, actually; my appetite had been severely curbed after my day with Jesse. But my mom wasn't supposed to know I already had a huge meal with someone.

Especially someone she expressly forbade me to see.

In fact, she was under the impression that I had stayed home the entire time she was out, catching up on sleep and the likes.

Conniving, right?

Andy reached for his knife and began to cut his steak. "Well, if you want that cereal, it's in the pantry…I put a post-it note on it. Just in case."

I smiled at Andy as I pushed my chair out, noticing that five jaws had stopped chewing as they focused their undivided attention on my trek to the kitchen. I suddenly felt five pairs of eyes wait for me to fall. I loved predestined failure. Really. Thanks. I wanted to lean against the wall, but I knew that any sign of weakness would just keep the fretting. And I really didn't want them watching my every move, especially if I planned on spending time with the "dangerous" Jesse. So I gritted my teeth and slowly made my way into the kitchen without any mishaps.

And without my crutches. Praise Jesus.

As soon as I was out of sight, I leaned against the counter, panting, regretting. I shouldn't have left my crutches back there.

It look several attempts, but I finally located the dried goods pantry. An adorable smiley-faced post-it note greeted me with a thumbs-up and "you made it!" I chuckled. Andy was such a great goofball. I could see why my mom married him. As soon as he had gotten home today—I figured Mom told him I was alive and lucid—he had rushed into my room.

"Your ribs okay, kiddo?" he had asked, eyes twinkling. Before I could respond (my braining was mulling over this new knowledge of broken ribs), he surmised that, since I was sitting up, I could obviously handle a bear hug.

As I stood up to grab the cereal, I could still feel the burn.

But it was a great burn. It assured me that I still had a nervous system.

Then again…when I was with Jesse that day, there was no doubt I still had my senses…

When I agreed to accompany Jesse home, he gave me one of those spectacular smiles. You know the smile. The one that had me wishing I weren't some handicapped, desperate, wistful fool. Damn me for having such hopes. It could only end in tears and a gallon of Ben and Jerry's. Good Lord, I could never look at a Tollhouse the same way. Or anything written in Spanish, for that matter.

Which kind of blew, considering that everything in America had a Spanish translation under the English text. Damn.

I had bitten my lip. What the heck was my problem? I couldn't behave like a functional human being in front of him. I mean, waterworks? Laughter? I was this complete crying, laughing, dysfunctional nutcase, equipped with crutches. I bet they had a Barbie like that…yes, a complimentary wheelchair included. I promised myself that I would stop with the self-pitying. Because really? Who needs to hear that?

Jesse masterfully backed out of the parking spot, with the whole right arm behind the passenger headrest thing. I sort of saw the appeal in personal vehicles versus mass transportation. Bus drivers weren't the most notoriously handsome. I wanted to keep looking at Jesse, but something caught the corner of my eye, and I got my first appreciative glance at the ocean. I didn't notice it earlier because with my shades, I couldn't see the way the sun glinted off the surface. That expansive horizon I saw earlier just couldn't have been the ocean. But it was. I realized that if I had a second love, it was the Pacific. My eyes were able to take in the water without hurting, and I actually lowered my shades to marvel at its majesty. The light just seemed to sashay across the surface. I heard Jesse sigh, and I jerked my head back to his face. One look told me everything. He meant to pull over. I stopped him by gripping the top of the steering wheel. I whipped off my sunglasses and said, in all seriousness, "No, wait. It's okay, Jesse—you don't have time. You have to go to work, and we still have to go back to your home to get your stuff. Remember?"

Jesse waved an flippant hand. "I don't mind being late for you."

My heart came to a halt. "What?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you say?"

"Work. I don't mind being late for work," he said calmly, eyes never leaving the road.

I looked into the distance. Funny. Could have sworn he said something else. Maybe that was just my overzealous imagination. I blamed Disney. I noticed that the highway narrowed into two lanes of traffic. A yellow sign passed, declaring that the speed limit was forty miles per hour. One glance at the speedometer told me that Jesse was actually driving at speed limit. So he wasn't some reckless driver. That knowledge didn't actually make me feel safer, considering that I already felt safe in the first place.

Silly, masochistic Suze.

The trees outside my window were sparse, revealing a road beyond. I blinked, and suddenly, the passenger side sloped and I couldn't see the mysterious road. I craned my neck to see where it went, but we went under the Cabrillo overpass and it was gone. I tried to remember how often I paid attention to streets, but I still couldn't remember anything. Though I had the odd mental picture of me going all ninja on some thick-necked men in suits, but the image passed. I had to shake my head clear of that one.

It was just so vivid.

I watched the trees multiply. The trees here were dense, muffling the sound of the highway we just left. But the highway was there, refusing silence. Jesse drove familiarly, letting his hand just rest on the wheel, using slight pressure and the ball of his palm to steer. His hands looked so natural.

What was my obsession with Jesse's hands? So they were nice hands. I mean, they were nice, sinewy and perfectly tan, broad and paradoxically slim. But that didn't explain my fixation. I quickly glanced at my own and decided I needed a manicure.

Suddenly, I heard the car tires hit gravel. I looked up from my nails and stared as we pulled into the gravel driveway.

Jesse cut the engine. "We're here."

For all his sophistication, I envisioned a huge mansion, complete with a curving driveway and center fountain.

But after hearing part of his life story, I realized that he had undergone so many hardships that a center fountain was currently out of the realm of possibility.

To be blunt, it was far from visions of grandeur. It was small, lacking a carport, let alone a garage.

Wordlessly, he unbuckled his seat belt.

Sexily.

Protection was sexy.

I wanted to slap myself. Gosh, what is my problem?

His eyes gauged my reaction, but I kept my face impartial.

I stared at his house instead. Why did architects have this affinity to build front doors above ground level, I ask? New York brownstone apartments were like that too, and it was damn irritating. I mean, what was wrong with building a door right on the ground? Were floods common in good ol' California?

"You can stay in the car. I'd hate for you to fall down the stairs after recuperating so anomalously well."

He was concerned for my well being. I knew that. But he was embarrassed, too, I realized with a start.

"No, no. I want to see your home," I said, smiling supportively.

He hesitated. "Are you sure, Susannah? It's a long way to the front door, and I don't want you to hurt yourself."

It was true that the front door was at least twenty-five steps above ground. But I wasn't going to be deterred.

"I'll take my crutches," I kidded lamely as I opened the door. Except it wasn't funny in the first place. I really didn't expect him to laugh at all.

The spot between his eyebrows furrowed. "No, Susannah. It'll be quicker if I just go and grab—"

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" I said hotly as I swung my legs out the door. Jesse stopped walking towards his apartment and pivoted on a foot. He stopped a foot in front of me and I felt overwhelmed by his sheer height.

I was sitting, after all.

"I don't know you're playing, if you are trying to guilt me into this or if you are being completely serious, but either way, you are staying put. As a dear," he had to breathe, and I actually saw him bite his cheek. It was as if he was keeping something from me. I crossed my arms as well, matching his defiant stance. Stubborn thing. "As a dear friend of yours, I think it is in your best interest if you please stay."

I shrugged, feigning defeat as I blew the hair out of my eyes. A dear friend. "Fine, Dr. de Silva, but I expect you out immediately."

I fully intended on sneaking into his house as soon as he was inside. But he did something I didn't expect.

He reached for my face and tenderly held my jaw line in his hands. He paused. His heat traveled through my center, down to my toes and back up. My skin pulsed with unseen electricity. I dared not look up.

Then he kissed the top of my head.

"I'll be right back out, querida," he grinned and vaulted away.

I sort of sat there in a tizzy. Even my head was swimming. Did he just kiss me? Well, on my head, but it was a start, right?

So of course I couldn't go up those stairs and invade his privacy. That would be so underhand of me. I cast one glance back up those stairs and with a sigh, I turned fully into his car.

Where did these morals come from? Really.

I shut my eyes and tried to relax. But it was hard, since my neck was still tingling funny. I tilted my head and started to rub it.

Damn morality.

Life would be so much easier.

Suddenly, I felt a hand behind my back and beneath my thighs.

"Whoa!" I shouted and opened my eyes to see Jesse smiling, his eyes lighter than usual. I realized that my elbow was on his shoulder because my hand was still at my neck. Embarrassingly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he locked his car.

"I changed my mind," he told me before I could ask.

My lips were working overtime, trying not to show my glee. Look, I won't lie to you; you can't stop a smile that's erupting like…well, Krakatoa on energy drinks. I felt euphoria pool into my system faster than anything I'd ever experienced. Oh…Cadbury, Toblerone, and Hershey's had nothing compared to this.

As we made our way up, he explained hastily, "It's frugal compared to the lavish homes of Paul and Tad, I know; but it's temporary." I had no idea who those people were. "I'm attending Monterey Peninsula College because it is so close to my home, and it has a pre-medicine department. But it's a community college, all I can afford right now. But because I'm eligible, I'm applying for scholarships and grants to attend a more prestigious institution—"

We crossed the threshold and Jesse turned to the right to plop me onto an overstuffed leather couch. I blinked a couple of times to adjust my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was the wall opposite the couch. It was covered ceiling to floor with books wrapping around to span the majority of his sparse loft-like apartment's walls. We were in what I assumed was the living room, but I had a hunch his room was filled with more of these books. I saw some authors I recognized, but many of them were thick medical volumes and historical anecdotes. Bridges of Madison County. A Thousand Years. His home looked lived in, but had that temporary haven trait, where everything looked as though it could be boxed for easy transportation. In the center of the room was a beautiful glass table, on which sat more books, supported by a Plato and a Hippocrates bust book end. Beneath the table was a very rich oriental rug that I was shocked existed in his home. I noticed that his kitchen was a part of the living area, very space-friendly, for it took up only one wall. The fridge and stove fit snugly against that wall. Above the kitchen sink was a window, which overlooked the driveway. His decoration was sparse, but lovely. Random pictures here and there, of which I didn't think I had enough time to look at.

Interestingly, it was incredibly neat.

"It's enough for one person, but this is essentially it," Jesse said, kicking a box beneath the couch. I looked over his shoulder at the open door. He followed my gaze, rubbing a hand through his crisp hair.

"Oh. That's where the bedroom and bathroom are."

I nodded. He opened his mouth, probably to tell me how he was sorry the apartment was so small, but I held up my hand.

I realized that anything I said would come out clichéd. Straight out of a chick flick. His eyes implored me, waiting for me to judge him.

"I wish I had a place like this...something to call my own."

I didn't realize until that moment just how overwrought he was. Suddenly, he beamed.

"Would you like some cranberry juice?" he abruptly asked. Without hearing a response, he turned and headed towards the fridge.

"I thought we were in a hurry," I called from my seat on the sofa.

Jesse was rummaging around in the fridge (I strained my ears to hear the clink of alcohol bottles and was disappointed), and he peeped his head above the door. "I said half hour so we wouldn't dawdle."

"You lied to me?" I asked.

"No…" he straightened with the cranberry juice and shut the fridge with his foot. "I just didn't want to spoil myself."

I smiled, watching him search for a glass. "Plastic's fine," I assured him.

He shook his head and grabbed some Dawn dish soap. "For you it isn't," he countered and began to wash a glass.

I shrugged. "If you like suds, be my guest."

"Oh, I do like suds," he guaranteed with a rakish wink and dried the glass. With a flourish, he began to pour the cranberry juice. I leaned back, enjoying the open window. From the look of it, Jesse didn't have air conditioning. Must be killer in the summer. Instead of pointing out how ungentlemanly his wink was, I pointed out the air conditioning impasse. He handed me the glass and said nonchalantly, "Easy physics."

Really? I wanted to know how he did it.

He grabbed a sports bottle off the top of the table and sat on a nearby folding chair. He took a swig of what I assumed was water and said, "Simply place a fan in front of the window."

I made a mental note to try this at home.

"Con permiso," he apologized, "I need to do what I came here to do. I need to grab my uniform, and there was a book I wanted to show you." He drank some more water before disappearing into his bedroom. I sipped from my glass of cranberry juice and sighed at the relief it brought to my parched throat. I didn't even realize how dry it had gotten. Did Jesse know I liked cranberry juice?

"Nombre de—!"

I jumped at his shocked tone. I was about to ask if he was all right when suddenly, there was giggling.

Feminine giggling.

Huh. I thought we were alone.

Damnit.

Well, whatever. Jesse had to work anyway. It wasn't like I planned on jumping him…especially since I couldn't really jump.

But in all seriousness, who else was in his bedroom?

I heard bedsprings squeak. "You startled me!" Jesse whispered, astonished.

The voice chirped, "Sorry!"

"Come out from under the covers, chica. This is no time for games."

There was a disgruntled sigh. "But I wanted to play with you!"

Any other girl would get paranoid because there was another girl in her man's room. But not me. For one, he wasn't my man. And second, I realized from the "I'm sorry!" that the voice was juvenile.

Unless Jesse was a pedo. But I wasn't going to assume the worse. That got people no where in life. Besides, that would be such a shame.

Just like how John Barrowman and Freddie Mercury were gay.

Another thought struck me: what if he was a single parent?

I stole one last mouthful from my cup and reached for my crutches. I suddenly remembered that Jesse had carried me up, leaving the crutches in the car. I swore mentally. I had better get going if I planned on getting to his room before Armageddon. I set the glass on a coaster and braced myself. With a heave, I lifted myself with my arms supporting my entire weight. I tried to find my feet. When I did, I pushed myself upright. Oh gosh. The closest wall was to my right, so I attempted to cross the room, tripping on my left foot. I felt the wall's saving grace and leaned heavily against it. I must have thudded against the wall because there was a brusque intake of breath.

"What was that?" the childish voice asked.

"Susannah is in the other room."

"You not alone?" Yeah, that was my thought five seconds before I tripped.

"No, sweetie, but Susannah's a nice person. Would you like to meet her?" Jesse asked kindly. He must not have heard me stumble, or else he'd have been trying to nurse me back to health. I was a foot away from the door.

"Can she see me? I hate when big people can't see me. Snuffles is gone." From the sound of the girl's voice, she wasn't older than eight.

I heard Jesse inhale. "I'm not sure, carina. But we can find out."

I finally could see the bed. Panting, I took another step until I could see Jesse. Even kneeling on the ground, he was nearly taller than the person he was consoling. He was holding the hands of a little girl in a hospital gown who was perched on the bed. The girl was beautiful, with brown tresses framing a cherubic face. She was gnawing on her chubby fist, her hazel eyes brimming with tears.

It was the girl from the hospital.

"Oh my gosh!" I shouted and I took a step forward.

"Susannah!" Jesse shouted fervently. I suddenly realized my error—I couldn't stand on my own yet. Not without preparation. I With a weird shout, I braced myself for impact as Jesse and the little girl reached for me. Suddenly, I hit the ground, but not on hardwood.

My eyes shot open.

Two pillows managed to wedge themselves between myself and the ground, protecting my head and torso from impact.

I noticed that the adorable girl was missing and rolled onto my back with a groan. "What the…?"

Jesse was utterly horrified, spewing frenetic Spanish. "Nombre de Dios!! Susannah! Susannah, are you all right?!" He rushed over to my supine form and held his hands above me, as if he didn't know what to do.

But in this scenario, I didn't blame him one bit.

"Where did the girl go?"

"Are you in pain? What hurts? Susannah, speak to me! Did you hit something?"

"How did you get the pillows under me?"

Jesse, exasperated, lifted my upper body up. "Susannah, answer me first. Are you injured?"

"Any more than I already was?" I chuckled to myself. "No, I think you saved me."

Jesse's eyes were still wide. "Save you?? Because of my foolhardiness, you are currently lying on the ground. You could have cracked your skull!! You could have twisted something, ruining the progress your miraculous body made!"

"You think I have a miraculous body?" I sniggered. Jesse's eyes stopped roving for any wounds and focused on my face. "You must have hit something. You are disoriented."

"No no!! I'm fine! You got the pillows under me in time!"

"Pillows..? What—"

Suddenly Jesse noticed the two pillows underneath my body. He stopped and stared and swiftly brought me to his chest. "Jesucristo, thank you, chica."

From my limited vocabulary, I remembered that chica meant something along the lines of girl.

"Yeah, about that," I said, muffled in his chest. I was thoroughly enjoying this. His chest was truly glorious. I tried to hide the happiness from my voice. "Who was the girl?"

Jesse loosened his grip on me and I felt disappointment. Damn. He noticed a book exceedingly close to my body, and pushed it away, perhaps in fear that I'd somehow trip on it. But not before I got a glimpse of the title. Monterey Peninsula: The Golden Age by Kim Coventry.

"What girl?" he asked.

I craned my neck to look at his now empty bed, where only moments before sat a little girl. "The girl in the hospital gown. I saw her at the hospital today, too." Jesse continued to stare at me. "You know…the girl…with the cherubic face…hazel eyes…wavy hair?" I started to doubt my sanity. I was right—amnesia caused insanity. Too much Valium, maybe.

He smiled suddenly, cocking his head. He must have believed me when I said I wasn't injured. "You could see her?"

Um, ja. he wasn't making any sense. Everything was perfectly normal until this point.

"Why wouldn't I be able to see her?" I demanded angrily.

I wanted an explanation. Jesse refused to meet my gaze. "We should reach your house before your mother returns from work."

I fumed. "Jesse, what is going on? don't lie to me and tell me that there was no child there. There was CLEARLY a girl there, wearing a hospital gown, all adorable with curly brown hair, and now she's vanished. I heard you two conversing and everything. Like, you were going to introduce me to her and all that...this isn't funny."

I snapped my jaw shut, uber peeved. Right. So the lo--, I mean, so the incredibly good looking guy I fancied was laughing at me.

I crossed my arms and swallowed sadness. Great.

"Querida, you talk so fast."

"Your point?" I huffed.

Jesse felt my obvious rage and immediately stopped smiling. He looked me in the eye. "Forgive me, Susannah. I fully intend on divulging what you just witnessed today. But that would take precious time we do not have. Your mother probably assumes you are at home, resting, inside of accompanying a suspicious man." He sighed, and I knew that this topic was over. "And hopefully, if you begin to remember, we can discover who the true perpetrator is."

I glanced at his despairing face. He couldn't have been the one. He couldn't.

"Um, Jesse?"

"Yes, querida?"

I chose my words carefully.

"Um."

Indeed, careful syntax.

"Um?" he smiled at me. "You never cease to astound me, querida," he said as he pulled me up and helped me to a chair.

Haha.

"Um, Jesse…despite my mom's belief that you had something to do with…whatever, I feel like I know you. And I know you won't hurt me. Just like that little girl I just saw. I need your help in remember who I was before all this," I waved my hand, "happened." I was babbling. I had a feeling that I had a tendency to do that. I was hoping that I wasn't speaking fast, either. "Can you help me?"

He bent down for the book Monterey Peninsula: The Golden Age and placed it delicately on the desk, next to what looked like a scrapbook.

"Is that the book you were going to show me?" I asked.

He looked at the scrapbook and stroked the cover reverently. He reached for the edge of the scrapbook, but pulled back his hand to check the time.

"Ah…I need to get you home." He shelved the book but stared at it longingly. "Perhaps another day. Soon."

As he lifted me from the bed, I passed the shelved scrapbook. I wanted to pluck it off the shelf, but figured that today was not the day for mysteries.

The scrapbook, the little girl, and my past.

A/N: okay, the plot is moving slowly. Disappointed? By all means, tell me, but please don't be harsh. I've got exams coming up. I tried to get more of the family in there, like many of you wanted to see. =] Until next time...!