"Are you breaking up with me?"
"Are you giving back that ring?"
I walked the all too familiar path back to my house. The tears were coming down my face fast now, my hair was sticking to my face, and what little makeup I had on was bleeding down my face. I couldn't believe I'd just walked away from Eric, the love of my life. I paused in the street when I heard the sound of a fist pounding on the Vista Cruiser. However, I shook my head and forced myself to keep walking. If Eric really loved me, we wouldn't have broken up, I told myself.
I found my house empty, which was just fine by me. I didn't need my mom with her crazy logic or my dad threatening something he couldn't do to try and cheer me up. But it wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone at that point.
I wearily climbed the stairs to my room and tried to put Eric out my head, tried to think of Kelso and Jackie fighting which always made me laugh. But how can you forget someone was has live next door to you your entire life and have loved for almost as long?
By then I was standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, trying to scrub away all of my old feelings. Around the edges of the mirror I had stuck pictures and all but one- the picture of me and Hyde in fifth grade -was of Eric. Each one was a different memory or important moment in our lives. There was one from when we were six and our dads were teaching us to ride our bikes; when we were two and I'd fallen asleep in his crib; our 7th grade dance where Kitty bombarded us with pictures before we left; our first date; prom… the list went on and on.
I picked up a picture from my thirteenth birthday. Eric had his arm around me and I was holding my cat, Mr. Bonkers. I remember how Kelso teased us, but neither of us cared. I remember Hyde's face after I gave him a hug, but kissed Eric on the cheek. I remember how happy I was and how everything seemed perfect.
The tears that had disappeared before they slowly made their way back down my face and onto my old flannel pajamas. "I hate you!" I screamed, somehow hoping Eric would hear me. I threw the picture down, ran into my room, and threw myself onto my bed.
"You sure about that?"
I froze, trying to figure out whose voice it could be. It was definitely a woman's, but it wasn't my mom's or Jackie's-it wasn't even Mrs. Forman's. I braced myself and sat up. In front of me was a young woman-probably in her mid twenties-with very long, curly, strawberry-blond hair. She had on a short, sleeveless, white dress which was unusual for winter.
"Hello," she said, taking a step closer.
Cautiously I stood up. "Who… who are you?"
"I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzy," she cheerfully held out her hand.
I declined the gesture. "I meant who you are, not your name."
Lizzy laughed. "I'm an angel, Donna."
This threw me completely off guard. Angel sightings were things you read about in tabloids or on the six o'clock news-not something that happened to yourself.
"I know what you're thinking, angels, have to float." Lizzy looked over at me and I gave a 'Then why don't you do it?' look. Lizzy smiled and pushed off the ground, floating for a few seconds and then coming back down.
"What do you want?" I headed back into the bathroom and started taking pictures out of the mirror edges.
Lizzy followed behind me and took the stack of pictures out of my hand. "What are you planning on doing with these?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I'll probably throw them out, maybe burn them." My voice was distant and made me sound like a ten year old that just said things so she would sound cool.
"But why would you do that?" She looked at me, but wouldn't let me answer. "Donna, each of these pictures is a memory. Just because you and Eric broke up doesn't mean you have to forget all of them and start all over."
I tried to ignore what she had just said. "You didn't answer my question. What do you want?"
"Come on, I'll show you." She grabbed my hand and brought me downstairs. Looking out the kitchen window she said, "Good, we're just on time."
I broke away from her grip. "On time for what?"
Lizzy smiled wickedly, if only I could imagine what was going through her head. "On time to revisit the first memory on our stop, of course."