This is a short story that is meant to be read along with the main story A Two For One Love which was posted before this. If some of the parts don't make sense, read the longer version, and it will iron them out.

The intensity of my life had picked up ever since that long October night that me and Alli had spent together, something that we would never be able to figure out. I was no firmly in college; two years went by so fast, like they were nothing. I couldn’t be more honest than to say that I didn’t know what to expect next along the roads I traveled. Yea, I got rid of that Mustang, and the letters were beginning to come off of the high school football team coat, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t hide what I meant to everybody, especially Alli.

But I had made her mad, and surely, this was going to be one of the more interesting paths that I would have to take. Here I was, a sad 21 year old sitting in front of the house of the girl – or make that, the ever blossoming young woman which charmed me all the time – and I couldn’t put in words how bitter I felt. It wasn’t a Shakespearean fear of love, or a romance novelist’s cheating – it was just plain bitterness.

I remembered all those days when I used to come up to this house and think it was a castle. Mr. Schrater would come to the door and let me in, and Alli would always – ALWAYS – be fresh out of the shower and sometimes with her hair still moist, she would always be ready to go and make the best of any day or any time that we had together. She still had those trademark platform clogs, size 9.5 and somewhat beat up, and somehow she never fell out of them, even though they should have gone to the secondhand store a long time ago. And there she would be, smiling as she came down the creaky old stairs to her bedroom in the upper chamber of the old house. It always used to draw a smile to my face, and I remember all the little things – the subtle lighting, Mr. Schrater’s love of the scented cinnamon apple candle, the sound of the third step up sounding like it would snap – everything that senses could tell, I was loving, and loving it dearly.

Now, though, I couldn’t picture those things or touch or smell or see any of them in a positive life. I had to go and set things right with the girl I loved. It wouldn’t be with a box of chocolates or a bouquet of flowers or any material item. It would just be me, and me alone, to face the ultimate consequence of having to plead a case to one’s love forever.

As I took a deep and lasting sigh, ready to hold in my air so I could breathe it upon Alli next, I knocked on the door. I couldn’t stare Mr. Schrater in the eye, but I would have to, because he was a man of pact and a man of strength, and I couldn’t let him down.

“Hi Jamie. She….she’s upstairs. I think you should talk to her,” he opened the door and stated before I could get a word in edgewise. Somehow, I figured, he knew the little girl that he had raised all and all by himself had to figure out the puzzle by herself. No longer was he going to point out every error or every single little misstep that she made. No longer was she going to be held beneath a net of love and courage so she could bloom in secret. She was out on her own, and nothing was going to stop it from coming to fruition.

As I went up the stairs, I heard Mr. Schrater come up behind me, as if to check in on what I had to say. “Jamie,” I heard him softly state, clandestine if at all. “Take care of my girl, sir.” I nodded and began to open the door.

Alli had already slid her shoes off, a sign that she was a wee bit distracted and quite disinterested. Her red and white turtleneck sweater was rolled down just a little bit, and her jeans covered up all but her toes in the blue socks she wore on our first date. Her eyes were red, hidden behind thin wire glasses and filled with the angst of a weekend of much disappointment.

She didn’t even turn up to look at me, and I knew it was because she knew, in all her feminine know-how, and with perhaps a tinge of expectation or extra-sensory perception, God forbid – I was coming to find her. It was her outfit the first time we went out and had such a good time, seeing Father Knows Best in the theatre, being scared, tempted, and put to shame by my high school mates. I remembered what she wore not because I had an affection for it, or a masculine temptation by it, but simply because I remembered the first time she walked through that door and stepped into the car, I knew she would be mine. It was a new experience for me, perhaps, two years ago, but I can swear sometime little things are big when it comes to the love a man has for his woman.

I opened the door even more, and spoke the first word to Alli, who sat Indian style on an old couch put off to the side of the room, which seemed to be almost the size of half of my own house. It was isolationist, but surely it gave Alli homage to be alone in a big space. “Alli, it’s Jamie. I want to talk to you.” Slowly closing the door as it creaked behind me, I tried to warm her up to me.

As she turned around, she pouted and rubbed her fingers on her red eyes beneath her thin-rimmed glasses. “I don’t like you, Jamie. Why did my Dad let you in?” She was content on not having any more words than what was necessary – and I was cool with it. But I couldn’t let her go just yet.

Somehow, my heart became the controller of my mouth, and it was a good thing, because my mind was in it for the chase and the beatdown. Blame it on the fact Mother Nature programmed the male as the beta version of a human being. “Alli, I know that you saw me with that other girl.”

She still wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and knowing how hard it was to get it, I didn’t lose eye contact with her. I had to be strong, because I knew she was testing me, and I was being slowly reeled in. “Jamie, no. You had your chance two weeks ago.” She began to sob and bow her head, trying to pull her emotions back into her like they were so near and dear to her. I could tell by her expression that she was beginning to feel the peripheral effects of my being there, and indeed, I could feel hers, too. She was trying desperately to repel me, to force me away from her, and yet in all of that, I could step nearer to her and be able to maintain – but only if my heart and soul would allow me.

“Listen, Alli. I have to say this to you,” I felt the words spill upon her lap like a glass of wine, ever so present but never to be there. I was being honest and trying to maintain my dignity, all in one fell swoop. “I know you are hurting by this, and I’d be screwed if I would ever lie to you about this – “ I took three cautious steps towards Alli, and yet she still wouldn’t turn towards me, as she began to curl up and hide her face – “ but I’ve known ever since the day I met you, that first October night, you were there in your very own way. Look upon yourself. You went and wore that same outfit you had on that night. All the way down to the way you pulled your socks up halfway. The sweater, the shoes, everything. And you did it for a reason.”

She started to openly cry, and turned towards me. “I know I wore this. It’s because I wanted to forget about you, Jamie Linchester! I wanted to –“ and she got up and shoved me quickly aside, onto the couch and out of her way, as she slammed her bedroom door and took off down the hallway.

Futilely but confidently, I yelled “Wait…wait…Alli!” I went and got up, aching from my shin hitting the wooden armrest of the musty old golden couch. “Wait!” I opened the door and took off at an almost tripped-up pace down the stairs, breezing past Mr. Schrater, who didn’t say a word physically but gawked in disgust.

I got to Alli, who had run around the back porch and hid in a corner of the wraparound so typical of plantation houses. “Alli, but the thing is you wore this sweater, this…this pair of jeans. Because you knew I was coming.” She was scared to death – and she knew why, and it was in words she couldn’t explain even if she could ask the best writer to do it.

She grasped me, and all of a sudden, the deal was sealed with a kiss. “Come back to me.” And we held each other for perhaps a few moments, but it felt like forever in our hearts. It was not the most beautiful of times, not the best nor the worst of times, but it was the time of our lives. It was getting back the girl – the girl I so dearly loved.

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