Blue Eyes, Shining - Intermezzo 6: Memories
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Kim Possible and all the characters of the show are owned by the Disney Company. All other characters can be blamed on the author (he, however, is not responsible for all of their actions at all times, being barely responsible for himself most of the time). This is a strictly not-for-profit, just-for-fun work.
Enjoy! Please read and review.
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Intermezzo 6: Memories
Story: during Always, Love
Time stamp: this series of events occurred the Saturday after chapter 8…
When: Saturday afternoon
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"Mr. Dr. P: who's Carol?" Ronald Stoppable, my daughter's boyfriend and soon to be fiancée, was helping me move some boxes form the garage, and a picture had fallen out of one of them.
"She's an old friend, Ron. Why?"
"Because she's hotter than BonBon, Mr. Dr. P," I grinned.
"When did you know her?"
I took the picture and looked at it, then turned it over and grinned.
"Ron, this was taken when she was 13, not 18," I replied, and Ron's eyes bugged out.
"If it wasn't for what we've already talked about, Ronald," I glared at him.
"Yea, I know: Black Hole Deep, I remember," he laughed, and I couldn't hold the glare and joined him in the laugh.
"Whatever happened to her?" and I felt a miniature pain in my heart, but it went away…
"Ron, grab that last box, take it into my study, then join me in the kitchen, and I'll tell you what happened to Carol," I promised, and he grabbed the two remaining boxes and almost ran into the house.
'It's been a long time, Carol, since I'd thought about you,' I looked at the picture of two 13-year-olds, one tall and geeky and the other beautiful, placed it carefully it into my shirt pocket, and headed into the kitchen for some Short Neck Root Beers.
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I popped two tops, handed one to Ron, and clicked bottles.
"To old flames," I drank and put my bottle down.
I had Ronald's attention, and I pulled the picture out of my pocket and handed it to him.
"Ron, the last time that I heard from Carol was while I was a senior in college," I began….
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(James T. Possible)
Bzzzzt.
My buzzer sounded. This was back in the days when not every dorm room was wired (the mid-80s; only a few were wired, and you had to pay for that, so no wiring in mine, thank you very much!), so buzzers sounded when you had a phone call at the front desk.
Bzzzzt.
I groaned, turned over, and looked at the clock: 10:20 AM. This was way too early to get up on a Thursday. I rolled back over, put my pillow over my head and went back to sleep.
I didn't hear the third buzz.
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Later that morning, after I'd finally gotten up and taken a cold shower (no hot water by this time of day), I went to the lobby. The message board read Possible, so I went to the desk and picked up the message.
I was to call an operator and a number. I knew, from the area code, that the number wasn't in the States, but I had no idea where it was. Also, I thought I remembered that all area codes were three digits: this one had two, I think.
I had some time before my 1:00 class, so I picked up the message (wrote the numbers off the message board: we're talking college, remember: no paper and expenses for students…), and went to the payphone next to the exit doors to the campus main. I dropped in the quarter and dialed "0."
A voice came back after three rings.
"Operator."
"Yes, Operator 23, please."
"Just a minute, please," and I heard her dialing in the background.
"Overseas Operator," now, THAT got my attention! Overseas?
"Yes, I'd like to place a collect call to," and I gave her the number and my name.
"One moment, please," and I chuckled: the twang in her voice gave her away: New England, I thought.
I could hear the relays clicking (remember, 1980s). I had no idea who I was calling.
Ring.
Silence.
Ring.
Click.
"Guten Abend," a male voice, maybe early 20s, answered in…German?
"Auf English, bitte. I have a collect call from a James Possible in Middleton, Colorado. Will you accept the charges?"
"Yes, of course!" the voice sounded very excited. "Hello, James? James?"
"Yes, this is James. Who is this?"
"It's Joel Claremore, James. Remember me?"
"Joel, you old son-of-a-gun, what are you doing calling me here?"
My mind rushed. I hadn't heard from or seen Joel since elementary school in Denver. We were the top two students in our class, and always competing over every class award. At that time, he was about four foot ten, skinny with short-cropped black hair, black-rimmed glasses that framed large, excited eyes, and a devilish grin (Even for a 12-year-old).
"I'm working now, and a couple of days ago I ran into an old friend of yours, someone I knew you'd want to talk to."
"Who?" I was puzzled. Claremore was in Austria, Germany or Switzerland, I assumed from the language of the operator. I only knew one person over there, and he didn't know Sabina.
"I'll let you figure it out for yourself. Hold on," he laughed as he moved the phone away from his mouth, and I could here him laugh. No, two laughs, and a hand grabbing the receiver.
"Hello, James. How are you?" A definitely feminine voice, very soft and low and seductive: every guy's dream voice.
"Yes?" real sharp retort, I know, but I sounded confused. I had a very good reason: I was confused. Who was this creature?
"James Timothy Possible, if you don't know who this is…" her voice sounded pained; she obviously expected me to remember her? I racked my brain" no luck.
"Give me a hint?" I pouted, and she giggled. Now, she sounded familiar: I remember that giggle…
"Do you remember the time that you and I were at my house, doing 'research,' and Day-u-dhe came in on us? He threatened you to strap you to a Titan booster…"
"Carol!" Now, I remembered.
"That's better," she replied, sounding relived.
I had told myself I'd never forget that voice. Oh, well, we sometimes fail to remember…Carol….
I hadn't seen her in four years.
I remembered….
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Even at 14, Carol was a vision, so very beautiful. She had the perfect build, with long black hair that curled at about the middle of her back. A beautiful girl, a perfect figure, and so very intelligent: she was my dream girl, back then. Her eyes: they could light up your world or destroy it with a glance. She was turning down modeling jobs at 13….
Eccentric: she had turned down a full free-ride to a prestigious boarding school that ultimately guaranteed admission to Harvard Undergraduate and Law. When she told the stunned recruiters 'No,' one was finally able to get out the rod 'Why?' In a haughty tone, she replied, "I will be a chemical engineer, not a lawyer."
Intelligent: when her parents (she was an only child) moved to Switzerland when she was 15, she picked up three languages in three months and was fluent in three more by the end of 12 months.
Unusual: that was the best definition of her entire family.
Her mother – once, I'd rung the doorbell. A voice called out 'Come in, I'm in the kitchen.' I smelled food cooking. I tiptoed into the kitchen. Carol's back was to me. I snuck up to her and grabbed her around the waist and spun her around, planning to kiss her.
Wrong: it was Mrs. Biggs who I had grabbed, and she's old: at least 20-25 years older than Carol, and, man, am I embarrassed.
Her dad – he worked for some Agency, because he worked for the Government and kept disappearing and re-appearing at irregular times. He wasn't a huge man: 5'9-5'10" tall, 160-170 pounds, but he was strong and powerful, sharp, and a crack shot with pistols and rifles. I didn't mess around with Carol…much. He would remind me of those Titan boosters….
The last time that I'd seen Carol was about four years ago, three weeks before my freshman year in college. She was back in the States for a modeling tour, and she managed to talk her agent into driving her down to see me. We'd talked about a future, but it didn't seem like we'd made much progress towards an agreement.
I was certain that we'd end up together, someday. I remembered her smile when she left, a smile of joy and sadness mixed together, and I could still taste that kiss…
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…and I was back in the present.
"Carol, what in the world are you doing in Europe with Joel?"
"He's in Zurich on tour with his school, and I saw him on the street the other day. I wan after him, yelling his name; he stopped, we talked, and we decided to call and talk to you."
"What can I say?" What could I say?
"James, there's another reason I wanted to call. I was going to write you, but Joel helped me decide to call." Her voice, by this time, had dropped to a softer and very serious tone.
"One question: how in the world did you find me?"
"Daddy helped."
"Oh." No other statement required.
"GO on, Carol, what were you going to tell me?"
"James, I'm getting married."
Dead silence. I gripped the receiver so hard that I thought it was going to break in two.
"Well?" she sounded anxious.
"James, don't do this to me!" she was ready to cry: I knew my Carol far too well, even after this long.
"I'm…uh…great, Carol! Who's the lucky guy?"
"His father's big in ranching in Australia. I met him on the slopes here three years ago. We've dated off and on, nothing serious, I thought, until he proposed three months ago. I've been putting him off for that long, and I finally said 'yes' three days ago."
"I'm happy for you, Carol," LIAR! "For both of you. What about your parents?"
"They're thrilled. But, James," and she stopped.
"Yes?" I asked after silence.
"James, I couldn't tell you. I didn't know how. I mean, after all we'd been through…" She started to sniffle.
"Carol, if I even thought that I was causing you any pain…You know how I feel about you. But, now, I don't think it would have ever worked out: we're two very different people. You understand?"
"I- Yes, James, I do. But, James, listen: I want you to come over and be at my wedding."
"Sure, and you want the President to attend, also?" I laughed.
"James!" she sounded hurt. "We'll send you the tickets…"
"No, Carol, this is yours, all yours. I'd only get in the way and cause trouble. Besides," I tried to sound funny, 'with my luck, I'd get hijacked to Cuba or someplace," remember, it was the 80s.
"Well," she drew back a sniffle: I knew her sounds. "But, James, you'll always be there for me."
"Carol, we had fun and love, but we never were meant to be together: we're too different. It's better this way."
"Yeah. Sure. Hold on," and silence, followed by sobbing in the background.
"James?" it was Joel.
"Joel? You heard that end of the conversation, didn't you?"
"Yeah, man, it's a real shame: I was pulling for you and Carol even back then. I expected you two to get together, and when she told me about Devon…"
"Joel, I know she won't believe me, but you will. I really do care for her, but being angry won't help the sitch," and Joel laughed: we'd used sitch in elementary school and driven out teacher crazy whenever we said it.
"Joel, do you love her enough to let her go? Completely?"
I stopped, and I thought.
"Yes, I do, Joel."
"Wait." Silence, and I could hear snatches of a conversation in the background.
"James?" a tear-stained voice called out.
"Carol, it's all right, believe me. I can't say it any other way, I don't know how. Ask Joel; he'll understand.
"James," silence, then "I really did love you, you know that, didn't you?"
"And. I loved you, Carol, and I always will. You'll always be special to me: you were my first kiss, my first father threats," and that made her laugh.
"I've got to go, James."
"Take care, Carol. Be good to him."
"Goodbye, James," Joel's voice startled me.
"Joel, it's not polite to listen on extensions. Goodbye, though." His end clicked.
"Carol, has he changed much?"
"Not much: he's taller, and his hair's longer, but he's still Joel."
"That's good. And, Carol?"
"Yes, James?"
"Take very good care of your self. Remember, I've got an investment in you."
"James Timothy Possible, you stop that!" She was smiling now, most definitely. "Good luck, you handsome devil; maybe we'll see each other someday."
"Carol?"
"Yes, James?"
"I may have found someone who just might make me as happy as you did."
"JAMES! That's wonderful! What's her name?"
"Anne. She's a redhead," and Carol laughed.
"You said you'd never marry a redhead, James: remember?"
"Well…." I trailed.
"Good for you, James, good for you.
"I hope it works out for you two, James, I really do"
"I hope it does, too. Goodbye, Carol."
"Goodbye, James." Click. Clickety-ty-ty-ty-click dial tone………
I stood thee, holding a dead receiver. In the lobby, someone yelled "Fourth? Fourth?"
I stood there another second, hung up the phone, and called back "Fourth!" walking to the table to play bridge, while my insides, quietly but surely, died.
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"Gee, Dr. P, so that's who that picture was," Ron grinned as he handed me back the picture that had fallen from the box of old, old memorabilia.
"Yes, Ron, and now you know where the space launch threats came from," I chuckled as I handed him another Short-Neck Root Beer and opened another one myself.
"And, how long was it after that call did you propose to Mrs. Dr. P?"
"Ronald!" I grinned. "That's not what you wanted to ask, is it?" I grinned, and he lost.
"Well, yea, it's not.
"Whatever happened to Carol?"
"You know her by another name, on old "Sports Pictured" magazine covers," I grinned, and his eyes lit up.
"You mean, you almost married-" and I cur him off.
"That's right, Ronald, and that's between us guys, correct?"
"Correct," and we clicked bottles and drank.
"But, Dr. P?"
"Yes, Ronald?"
"Booyah to you, sir, Booyah," and he stood and bowed.
"Thank you, Ronald, but I think I got the better end of the deal; don't you?"
"Got the better end of what deal, James?" and Anne, my lovely wife, came in from the hospital.
"The 'beautiful, glamorous, and highly intelligent spouse' sweepstakes: I won, big time," I responses sincerely, and Anne grinned.
"You didn't do too bad on the daughter pool, either, Dr. P," Ron grinned, and luckily for him Kim came in just in time to hear his comment.
She gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Booyah," was his response.
Anne, not to be outdone, put her things on the counter and came over to me, sat in my lap, and whispered into my ear:
"And a Booyah to you, James," and she assaulted my lips and tongue.
"MOM!"
Memories are good, but the here-and-now rocks!
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Intermezzo 6 fin.