Twenty Six Miles

[Suerte]

Yhea...I'm trying to Put this back up.
The edited version of Twenty Six Miles
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Chapter One: Names

Pink cheeks hidden beneath golden skin. Piercing blue eyes. Crooked red smile with perfectly white teeth.

They’re all hers and oddly they’re all mine. They’ve been my map. My compass. My umbrella. My sunshine and my rain. Everything that you can imagine, she’s been it. All that is her is everything to me.

And right now I can’t see it. It’s all turned away from me. Blond hair’s the only thing facing my way. Highlighted white from the combination of salt water and the sun. I can see brave strands swirling in the breeze with absolute grace and ease.
Just like her.

A smirk finds its way to my lips as I let my body lean against the open doorway. The afternoon breeze catching my own curls, a few fallen pieces from my loose bun sweep across my face. I don’t even bother trying to control them. I don’t even try to stop the pieces from going wild.

Just like I’ve never tried to control or stop her and I’ve never wanted to. I’ve never wanted to tame her fire.

She’s sitting on her favorite lounge chair on our balcony deck. Bikini clad body safely wrapped in an ancient blanket. Wrapped inside the afghan her grandmother made her when she was five. The one she always has with her. It’s her comfort food. It’s her treasured photo album. It’s her favorite song.

She’s sitting there inside her little cocoon, inside her own little world, just taking in the view over the railing. In the distance you can make out the beach. The beach we just spent our lazy Sunday afternoon on. Our favorite beach.

All because it’s ours. It’s our beach. Our names have been endlessly traced in the sand there. Traced with our salty toes. Sure the ocean claims those letters every night. But we’ll always come back to draw them there again. We’ll take back what is ours. What’s always been and always will be ours.

Once again she dragged me into the water to teach me her life passion. And once again I failed miserably. I barely managed to stand five seconds before the board slipped from beneath me, pulling my ankle with it as I crashed into the water. She adorably stifled a giggle as she fell back into coach mode. Cheering me on with empty words and useless motivation because we both knew it was pointless. This was not my place. It was hers. But eventually enough was enough. I finally threw in the towel and decided to literally lay on one.

Meanwhile she went on to do what she does best; tearing through the rest of the afternoon. Just her and that beloved Roxy board, taking on the rest of the day. I’d sneak glances at her often. Even when I didn’t realize I was watching. I just couldn’t help myself from looking at the sight before me. Looking at her effortlessly ripping through the water.

While waiting for the next wave, her next big chance to show off, she’d straddle her board. Letting the water rock her gently, as she’d glimpse back at me. Her face never without that child-like smile, before going to paddle for another wave.

Yeah. Today was a good day, A really good day.

I cross my arms as I see her stir, toes stretching out beneath the beloved quilt. Any minute now she’ll feel my gaze on her. She always does.

I stand back and take in my view. Soak in all that I have, and all that I’ve been blessed with. And of course she is at the forefront.

Finally I see bright eyes as she leans up, turning her head. Her eyes already know what they’re going to find, and so does her mouth as it forms her trademark goofy smile. The one that never fails to make me smile. The one that makes me want to crawl right into her arms and never leave them. I’m seconds away from falling inside that safe haven, but remain where I am for a moment. My head leans to the side as I just watch her.

Her hand sneaks up in front of her face as one innocent finger beckons me over. I feel my cheeks dimple as a light chuckle floats from me to her. Her head tilts to the side, pointer finger still inviting me to join her.

Her mouth hangs open, jaw crooked from her sideways smile. I freeze that image in my mind. I hold onto it for as long as I can. Letting it drip deep inside me.

I never want to let it go and I never will.

“Ashley.”

My lips curl as I go to step towards her. I don’t however, because I can’t. My body is frozen. She giggles and all I want to do is go to her. Fear creeps its way into my bones. I’m paralyzed.

“Ashley.”

I feel a light hand on my shoulder. It’s shaking me. It’s pulling me away from her. I want it to stop.

“Ashley?”

Finally I turn around and face the voice. My eyes are strangely heavy. Like I’ve been sleeping. I see her face and it hits me. I realize that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I have been sleeping. I’ve been sleeping my favorite dream and now I’ve woken up to my living nightmare. That same nauseating beep punctuates the air as the stale sunlight streaks through the blinds on the window.

There are those blue eyes politely looking down on me. Filled with just the right amount of concern. Those same eyes that hit too close to home. The ones that are hers but could never match them. They’re merely ghosts of her eyes. They’re ghosts that haunt me and taunt me with what they’ll never be.

“How are you feeling today?”

I blankly stare at her, almost as if I didn’t hear her. She doesn’t hide the fact she knows I’m not going to answer. I never have and today isn’t the day I’m going to start. She lightly smiles as she adjusts some machines, writing something down on a clip board.

I keep my eyes on her boring blue name tag, before I face the window again. Feeling the few lines of light on my cold skin. It does nothing to warm me. It does nothing to comfort me.

The same sun that once shone so many amazing memories into my life is now a stranger. I hate that sun. I hate that it can’t bring them back. It can’t bring me back to that beach. It’ll never shine on our names in the sand again.

I feel that uninvited sting in my eyes. The one that taps on my shoulder, whispers in my ear that the tears are on their way. My eyes hop from side to side, as if they could run away from it. I purse my lips together so tightly my chin almost starts shaking. Somehow it’s working though, somehow I’ve managed to compose myself.

And then I feel it. My broken body comes to life once again. The dull ache in my bones, the sharp pain of my cuts and bruises. The tightness of the skin around them. The physical scars of all that happened. The scars that will now shine new memories into my life. The scars that will forever be with me. Unlike her. These scars will see days, months, and years that she’ll never see. They're going to outlive her. I'm going to outlive her. I already have.

My head falls to the side as the realization hits me. The realization of all I’ve lost. My map, compass, umbrella, sunshine, and rain. All those things that kept me together, kept me safe, and lead me home. I’ve lost them and with it I’ve lost myself.

My view's been taken away. I have no view. There’s nothing to look at. No reason to stand back and admire what’s before me. There’s no point.

[Suerte]

Chapter Two: Ten seconds

People think ten seconds isn't a long time. And they're right, it's not. But a lot can happen during ten seconds. Good and bad. Life can change in ten seconds.
Mine did. Ten seconds has changed my life many times.

The first of which happened in 1992. A lot of things happened in 1992. Bill Clinton became president. Riots broke out in L.A. Jay Leno took over the Tonight Show. The Redskins won the super bowl. The Blue Jays won the World series.

But they didn't matter as much as those ten seconds where I met her. Where I met my best friend. Where I found my other half.

Ten years old and I found her, or maybe she found me. Either way, we found each other. And that’s all that matters. Our fathers grew up together. Rock star Danger Davies and surf legend Jamie Carhart. Surprising even themselves with how they became friends. One man all energy and chaos, the other all peace and harmony. They were the kind of friends who could go years without seeing each other. Then one day life would bring them together again and it was as if nothing had changed.

May 20, 1992 was the day life wanted them to meet again. It had been two years since they last saw each other. Jamie’s first surf circuit after a three year break was just beginning. The kick off was at Huntington Beach for its annual surf competition. Jamie invited Dad, and surprisingly he could go. Surprisingly he wanted to. He invited me to come along, and normally I would have done anything to get out of it, but if my dad was there, I was there too. I was 100% there. Wearing my favorite polka dot skirt. Happy, ecstatic, cheeks threatening to crack from smiling so widely.

I remember the exact moment I saw her. A gust of wind blew the ocean air across my face, almost like it was beckoning me to look her way. Beckoning my eyes to wander down the beach a little ways. Through the swarms of people, through the laughter, through the waves, I saw her. A mop of bleach blond hair and a mouth full of teeth barreling our way. Dad was telling some story about him and Jamie, when they were my age. But with each step she took towards us, his words took one in the opposite direction. Everything was moving away from us. For ten seconds there was nothing outside myself and this girl running through the sand.

Ten seconds and she already had me curious.

Board tucked beneath her arm, she ran and unzipped her suit all at once, golden skin beneath a colorful bikini partially exposed. You could tell she was someone who tanned easily. You could also see the trait was lost in the fact that she was never not tan. There was never a period of time where she could easily tan cause she already was. Her body had been permanently tattooed with the sun’s love.

The world slowly started coloring itself in again when she reached us. Somehow those colors shone brighter with her there.

“Hi Mr. Davies”

A squeaky voice filled the air.

“Hey there Shawn...I’d like you to meet my daughter Ashley.”

“Hi.”

My own squeaky voice filled the air. But mine was more shy. More nervous. Less fun.

“Hi Ashley.”

She had a silly smile on her face. One I matched as our hands met.

She shook her head to the side, sending a large clump of wet hair in the other direction. Even through the dampness I could tell her hair had no definitive length. Sections ran longer and shorter than others. Almost as if she cut it herself but never finished the job. Something more exciting always came along and prevented her from cutting it all. I’m sure she didn't mind, though. I’m sure she liked it that way.

And the strange thing was I liked it too. I was a girly girl. I was a princess. But there I was staring at this girl who was the complete opposite of me, and somehow, I found myself there. I was staring at this stranger with her short messy hair, ugly black suit covering half her body, and I was comforted. I was curious. I felt happy. I felt alive.

I wanted more.

I wanted more from a girl who looked nothing like one. A girl who’s tall and lean body was the opposite of everything a girl should be. It was everything a boy should be. She could have easily been a boy. But that’s where it didn’t matter. It didn’t cover up one obvious fact. It didn’t hide what shone so brightly in front of me.

“I was gonna go sit with my mom” her eyes squinted, almost like she was going to tell me a secret. “It’s closer to the water.”

“Oh.” The tiniest hint of sadness in my voice.

Her eyes perked up, that silly smile formed on her face again, one that I noticed made her left cheek dimple. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah” I giggled a little, “that sounds cool.”

She did the hair thing again. Where she whipped it all to the other side of her face with such ease. It was like she didn’t care about anything. She was so laid back. I loved it.

We walked side by side through the crowd. I could feel tears of water dropping on my body every now and then. No doubt coming from her.

As I lie here, if I try hard enough I can still feel them. But with each beep in this depressing room, they grow farther away. Each beep of my heart sends every one of her drops of water farther away. By simply living, everything I had with her moves farther and farther in the past. I hate that beeping. I hate having to hear my heart still beating. Hearing it push everything else away.

I wince, I can’t tell if it’s from the thought or my knee. My shattered knee. My knee that’s kept me right in this hospital bed.

“Dreaming?”

She’s here again. Spencer. I’ll wake up some nights and she’s sitting with me. It used to be once and while, but she does it more often now. Ever since the visitors stopped pouring through the door. Maybe she feels bad for me.

Most times she’s reading through a book. Sometimes she looks like she’s working. You know, making sure I’m still alive. Making sure that cruel heart still beats inside my barren chest.

At first I found it weird that she’d sit with me. I never talk to her. I never answer her questions. I usually weep and soak my face with tears. But somehow she stays with me. She sits there like a night light. And that’s exactly what she’s become. At first I hated her light shining on me from that uncomfortable bed side chair.

But now the times I wake up and find that same chair empty, I don’t like it. Just like a little kid who’s night light has been turned off, I’m scared.

I glance at the clock on the wall. 11:47. I haven’t even made it past the day I’m trying to sleep through and I’ve already woken up. I really should sleep. I really need to. As Spencer has told me countless times, my therapy starts tomorrow. My physical therapy. The one that’s gonna teach me to walk again.

Just like a baby. Fitting since that’s kind of what I am now. I’ve lost everything. The life I had died weeks ago, and now I have to start again. I have to learn everything all over. I have to do it all on my own. And I really don’t want to. I don’t want another life.

“Ready for tomorrow?”

Of course she’d remind me that whether I want to or not, I’m going to start another life any way. No matter how hard I try to stop it, life is going to go on. It already is.

She keeps her eyes on me, book folded in her lap, simple hands held on top of it. A calm smile on her face that amazes me. Oddly she looks at me as if I might answer. Like she’s waiting on it this time. And for once, I figure why not.

“I guess.”

The words are choked, broken, rough, and scratchy. Almost like I’ve surprised even my own voice by using it. Like I’ve woken it up from a peaceful sleep, a far too comfortable sleep. With how low my voice is, I’m afraid if I had let it lie there under comfortable covers any longer I’d completely forget how to use it.

But she heard me. She heard me loud and clear. Relief registered all over her face, almost like she was afraid too. She was afraid I might never use that voice again.

“Good.”

Her mouth forms a smile around the word. Normally I’d hate it. I’d hate anyone who showed any form of happiness inside this room. This room with its plastic blinds and flowers on the walls. Walls with all my misfortune scattered on them, beneath the flowers. Windows that shine my disaster on me, masked by the warmth of the sun.

No one should smile in this room. But she does. And I let her.

“Well then I’ll see you tomorrow Ashley.”

She stands and looks down on me for a beat, weighing the possibility that I might say something again. But I’m not going to. I’ve said all I can for today. She knows it too, smile forming tighter on her lips. She nods lightly and walks out.

The room’s darker now. I’m the kid who’s parent sneakily switched off the light while they were sleeping. My head lolls to the side, tears creeping from my eyes like a leaky faucet. A faucet that’s leaked for so long no one even notices the water dripping from it. No one sees how broken it is because they can’t remember a time where it wasn’t broken. And no one really cares to fix it.

I’m that leaky faucet. But something tells me someone cares to fix this one. Something tells me she’s going to keep twisting and turning it until it works again. And something tells me she just walked out of this room.

Somehow the thought closes my eyes. I think it might have even stopped the tears, but I really can’t tell. I can’t tell any more when they’ve stopped. I never know when they’re pouring from these sad eyes. Just like that leaky faucet.

As I try to fall back asleep, those drops of water from 1992 are lightly tapping on my skin again. The ones that made me smile so long ago. They’re whispering against me now. As if they’re trying to help soothe the pain. As if they’re going to take me away from this place. They’re going to help me forget this bed and this room. My eyelids grow heavier as the water skids harder across my skin. I feel my shattered body leaving this room once again.

I’m so close to her now. I can see that dimple, that shaggy hair, those squinting eyes. She’s laughing and running towards the water. One last glimpse back at me before she dives into the ocean. Her giggling echoes all around me as I wait for her to resurface. As I wait for her body to spring out of that water. Wait to see her head flick from side to side, sending her hair in all different directions.

But she’s not going to. I know she’s not. For some reason I’m still lying in this bed with my eyes screwed shut. Praying that she’ll appear. But I know she’s not going to.

My eyes fly open. She’s not here. I’m not on that beach. Those drops of water are gone.

It’s been fourteen years since that first day on the beach. When I met her. When I met my other half.

It only took 10 seconds.

Now I lie here in this cold and dark room fourteen years later. Alone. My best friend. She's gone. My other half. She was ripped right from me.

And it only took 10 seconds.

[Suerte]

Chapter Three: Smiles

I smiled today. Closed mouthed and small. But a smile none the less. Spencer’s face suddenly appeared and there it was. The corners of my mouth were actually turning up.

It threw me. I’m not supposed to smile. I’m not supposed to be happy. But for the briefest moment, I was.

She’s now sitting beside me. She didn’t say anything this time when she came in the room. Just silently pulled her chair next to my bed and sat down. She smiled at me, a little wider than she normally does. I think she saw my brief moment too.

The afternoon sun filters through the trees causing splinters of light to pierce through the window. The room is stuffy and the gentle breeze flowing past the blinds does nothing to lift the air’s weight. We sit there for a few moments in the silence. The silence that has become so customary for us. So easy. So natural. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll remain silent forever.

And I’m not sure I want it to.

“So how was today?”

She’s always the one to break the ice, even when she knows no one is going to come along and pull her back through it. She always breaks through the ice even when she knows she'll probably be left there in the cold empty water by herself.

And I’m not sure I like her there.

“It was ok.”

I can see she’s happy to hear it, not for the words, but for simply hearing my voice. For knowing I heard her.

“Yeah? Josh is a pretty nice guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is.”

Josh is my physical therapist. I just got back from my first session with him a little awhile ago. He’s nice and funny and I hate him. He pushes me. He helps bend my leg and stretch it out. He coaches me through the simple action of walking. He motivates me through my frustration. He helps me through my pain. But it never goes away. It only heightens as the simple action becomes harder. As my leg stiffens and the pain shoots through my veins. As the memories of all I’ve lost boils to the surface.

But he’s still there. Funny and nice Josh is still there pushing me through it all. Forcing me through it. I pray that it gets easier. I pray that he’s funny and nice enough to make it easier.

Or maybe I pray I’m strong enough. Strong enough, inside and out, to get through it.

I glance over towards her and find her flipping through the same book again. I guess she figures I’ve finished my talking for the day. But I’m not so sure about that. I’m not so sure I want to stop talking.

“It’s Spencer, right?”

Her surprised eyes shift from the pages so easily. I can see her teeth below her smile. They’re perfect.

“Yup.” Her mouth remains slightly open as she nods.

“Why do you stay here with me?”

The words could’ve been rude, but my tone is one of friendly curiosity. I’m happy for it. I don’t want her to think I don’t like it. I don’t want her to stop coming into my room at night.

She giggles slightly, eyebrows raised. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, not at all” I quickly interject, but she keeps smiling and chuckling.

“It’s ok.” She crosses her legs, holding the book in her lap, her face softens. She takes a few moments, almost like she’s collecting her thoughts, before she speaks again.

“When I was nine, I had to have my tonsils taken out and ended up staying overnight in the hospital.”

I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I don’t mind. I’m curious. And I like her voice.

“It really sucked. I was all alone. Even though my mom worked at the same hospital, I still felt so alone. I kept waking up during the night in my cold room. It was so dark. It was awful.” Her eyes squint every now and then and it reminds me of so much. Her eyes hold so much behind them, so much more then she even realizes. Meaning so much to only me.

“But then I woke up and the room was brighter, I wasn’t so alone. There was this nurse there, checking my vitals. She didn’t say anything when she caught my eyes. She just smiled. I’m not sure if she had to, but she hung around the room a little longer, just checking machines, writing things down. I remember falling back to sleep so easily, feeling so calm and relaxed. The next time I woke up it was morning...”

She pauses, a slow smile crawling across her lips, eyes looking sincerely into mine.

“...suddenly I didn’t feel so alone.”

We hold each others stare and I get it. I understand. I appreciatively smile at her. We remain there for a few moments. Stillness faling on us once again and it’s ok.

“What do you say we take a break from this place and get some fresh air?”

Fresh air. It seems so foreign. The whole concept has practically been lost on me. I’ve been drowning in this room with it’s thick and stifling air. I forget what fresh anything is.

“Yeah, ok.”

She wheels me down endless halls with nameless rooms. I hate hospitals. Life begins and ends in these endless halls with nameless rooms. And somehow I’ve managed to do both.

We slide into an elevator, just the two of us. It’s completely silent. No constant beeping inside here and I love it.

“I don’t understand where the expression ‘elevator music’ comes from. Seems to me elevators are always silent when I get in them. Elevator music is supposed to be like soft rock, right?”

Somewhere deep inside I find a giggle and let it out. Surprising even myself. I really have no clue what brought this up, this strange topic of conversation. But I don’t mind. I actually find myself liking it.

“Well...” she rocks my chair a little, I’m sure she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it, she's so lost in her spoken train of thought, “...I think it should be called dentist music, cause seriously, every time I go to the dentist the music is always something from before 1998. You know?”

A happy “yeah” leaves my lips and I find myself giggling again as the elevator doors open. I shouldn’t be laughing. I shouldn’t be smiling. I should feel guilty. But I am laughing. I am smiling. And I don’t feel guilty.

She’s a strange and funny girl, this Spencer. But I think I like her. I think I might try talking with her more often. I don’t think it’ll remain silent between us forever.

She rolls me around expertly, heading towards large sliding doors. They seem to lead to some sort of quad in the center of the hospital, an open area with benches and trees. Flowers and grass. I can vaguely see some people scattered about through the glass.

The doors automatically open and the air hits me like a thousand buckets of cold water.

Suddenly Shawn’s all around me. She’s in that cold water, this fresh air, these green trees, this warm sunlight. She’s pouring down on me. Everything I’ve been missing is staring me right in the face. Punching me right in the gut. I can smell palm trees and pollen in the air. I can hear cars driving places.

I’m in complete sensory overload, and it’s only getting worse. It only hits harder as the faintest trace of a fire fills the air. I don’t know where it’s coming from, or what’s caused it. All I know is what it reminds me of and where it’s taking me.

I can almost feel the warmth of the fire from this chair. My nostrils are almost burning from the sharp smell. I close my eyes and I’m there. Suddenly I’m right back there.

Bonfires on the beach. Our nightly summer ritual. Mostly all surfers, and mostly all boys. We were practically the only two girls there. But it didn’t matter. They loved us and we loved them.

Fifteen years old and we knew everything. Reckless and free. We knew what life was all about. Invisible and untouchable. We knew exactly what the world owed us. We knew exactly what each of us would become.

We didn’t know anything at all.

We’d round up a few thirties of Milwaukee's Best. Bought by one of our older friends or some bum outside the liquor store who got to “keep the change”. We thought we were so cool when we called it the Beast like our big brothers.

Someone would bring a guitar. Shawn would always push it into my shy hands and force me to play. Shy hands turned expert when everyone clapped and cheered me on. When everyone loved me.

When she cheered loudest.

They were some of the best nights of my life. Nothing mattered during those breezy nights. There was always another beer. There was always laughter. Your favorite song always played. You were always surrounded by good people.

And then on one of those nights everything changed. Just like any other night, the fire roared on. One of the boys always made sure of it. Music played. Beers disappeared. People came and went. There were a few of us sitting around the warmth, like moths to a flame.

She was right with me. Right by my side. She always was. She leaned over and took my hand in hers and whispered “Come on.”

Barefoot and drunk, we stumbled away from the cracking and popping of the fire. Stumbled away from the group, away from the sloppy boys. She walked me down to the water where the sand was cold and hard.

Hand still in mine, we fell to the ground with a muted thud, our laughter lifting our hearts. We sat there side by side as our hands released from each other. It was cooler down there, you could feel the salt in the air, could feel it falling softly on your skin. Making it sticky.

I was cold in my skirt and long sleeved t-shirt. She noticed.

“Cold?”

I glanced over towards her, lazy smile living on my lips. I knew it was from the beer. I nodded slowly, as she looked out to the water, lips curled in a small smile.

“Come ‘ere”

Her arm opened and invited me beneath it, right into the warmth and comfort of her body. I gladly accepted the invitation and rested my head on her hard shoulder.

We sat there like that, letting the gentle breeze blow over us. The voices and cheers from behind us grew fainter and fainter. The group behind us faded away with each crashing wave. The waves that drowned out that other world. The waves that isolated us inside ours.

“He likes you, you know.”

Her voice was soft.

“Who?”

I knew exactly who she was talking about but I played along. She laughed cause she knew it. She always had me figured out.

“Justin.”

My eyes rolled and a low moan left my body as I moved away from her warmth.

“Whatever.” I sighed and fell down to the damp sand.

She was testing me. But there was only one person I liked. One person I wanted. I knew it. And she knew it too.

At least I thought she did.

I pulled a heavy arm over my forehead, letting the back of my hand rest there. We sat there in the stillness of that perfect night. I cast my eyes to the side and saw her dark form sitting there. Her blue hoodie blended in with the night time sky. I could barely make out her head beneath the hood. She sat there, knees pressed against her chest, as she looked out over the ocean.

I heard her snicker and peaked my eyes her way. She had her fist against her lips, drunkingly laughing into it. She was adorable.

Her laughter subsided with the tide, as she looked back towards it. She looked like she was thinking about something. I closed my eyes again, loving the warmth of her hand pressed against my leg.

I opened my eyes and found her right where I last found her. Hooded face turned away from me, looking out across the water. My hand still rested across my forehead. Her hand still sat on my knee. The pads of her fingers stuck to my skin. Everything was the same.

Then she glimpsed back at me. The moon shone dully on her face, making her teeth look whiter than they were. She gave me that goofy smile and practically laughed.

I spoke softly. Too softly. A hushed whisper. The words merely floated from my lips, hanging out there between us, waiting for her to hear them. Waiting for her to find them. But I don’t think she ever did. I don't think she ever could. The waves got to them first. The crashing waves snatched the words before she ever had a chance to hear them.

The waves washed them away like our names in the sand.

Her hand’s not there anymore. My back's not pressed against the hard sand. I can’t smell the fire. The voices are so far away. The suns in my eyes. Birds are chirping in my ears. I’m right back in that chair. I hear Spencer's voice mingling with the honking cars.

I feel the tears. I feel them hotly sliding down my cheeks, dripping off my lips. And as I hear Spencer's voice. As I think of our moment. I cry harder. The tears burn my skin. They cut inside my chest. Those moments from before, the ones of smiling and giggling, they just caught up with me. I'm not supposed to smile. I'm not supposed to laugh.

Suddenly I can't breathe. I'm drowning. I'm drowning in my tears. But it's so much more than my tears. Something bigger is weighing me down. And suddenly I realize it. I realize it's not my tears holding me under water.

It's my own guilt.

[Suerte]

Chapter Four: Lilies

I’ve always loved lilies. That’s probably why my sister sent them to me. Kyla knows they’re my favorite. But she hardly knows the reason why.

I’m sitting in a chair by the window. The one that’s not Spencers. Hers is empty. Hers is just waiting for whenever she comes back. I’m sitting in my chair. My chair that’s oddly waiting for her too. Waiting for her light to shine back inside this dark room. For her light to shine on it.

For her light to shine on me.

We talk a lot. Well she talks, I mainly listen. But that’s ok with us. That’s perfect with me. We’ve kept our conversations inside the hospital. I haven’t been outside in the quad all that much. I haven’t gone out there at all. It’s too dangerous. There’s too much out there. I’ve been so safe in here. For once this room brings me comfort. Hides me from the truth. Hides me from the past.

But of course the past found it’s way inside here. The past is all around me once again. Those lilies. They crept in here while I was sleeping. And now the vase I’m staring at yanks me right from this room. My favorite flower is now dragging me by my shirt collar. Dragging me back to one of my favorite times.

I gently remove a yellow one from the bittersweet batch. I twirl it between my thumb and pointer finger. I roll it over and over my jaded skin. I roll it over and over till I feel it’s life. Till I feel it’s freshness rub right on me. As I feel the past completely spill all over my head. All from a simple flower.

Oh but it’s not simple. It’s my favorite. And only I know the reason. Only we know the reason. I swear I can hear the waves from here.

“You have fun tonight?”

I glimpsed over towards her with a loose smile on my lips.

“You mean last night...”

She rolled her eyes in the way she always did and stood up. I watched her kick her way through the sand down to the water. Her tiny frame became more lost the farther she got from me. Her form started to blend right in with the dusky sky before us.

She was so beautiful that night. The night before. On prom night. We didn’t want to go. We complained and bitched about it every passing minute we could. Every minute until we actually went.

We weren’t prom people. We so weren’t prom people. We had such wonderful plans for the night, but then the guys asked us. Justin and Colby asked and we realized we were also people who couldn't say no. We so weren’t people who could say no. Especially to a friend.

So there we were, getting ready for what we hated. There we were, getting excited for what we thought we were dreading.

I’ll never forget the way my heart stopped when Justin and I showed up at her house. When I saw her in her dress. Shawn in a dress. I almost couldn’t believe it. The girl with the shaggy hair was nowhere to be found.

Prom was actually amazing. We actually had fun. Suddenly we were prom people. Even if it was only for a few hours. A few hours until we went back. A few hours until Parker’s after party came along and we turned back to our former selves. Like Cinderella, as soon as we lost the dresses, we lost the prom. Once again we were us. Us in our jeans and flip flops. Once again we were Ashley and Shawn.

We laughed into each others arms. We kicked ass at beer pong. We had those long talks on the back deck. You know the ones. Where you confide all your deep and mushy feelings.
And I felt it that night. I so felt it. I still feel it.

We both looked out to the sky at the same time. We both noticed that familiar shade of blue and found each others eyes. We both smiled and whispered “beach sunrise?”

The look on Justin and Colby’s faces as we ran out the front door was priceless. Their disappointed faces behind our linked hands was enough to make the night one of the best ever. But they certainly weren’t what made it the most amazing night of my life.

“It’s almost time.”

I tilted my head back and found her standing over me. Her arms were pulled back behind her, and as always she had my smile on. She wore the one only I knew so well.

I patted a spot on the big blanket and she softly sat beside me. Her shoulder pressed into me as she did it. I lost my stomach in that moment. I lost it and I don't know if I ever really found it again.

“Yeah it is...” I finally took my eyes off her and looked towards the ocean “...only a few minutes, I'd say.”

“Sometimes I wish I lived on the east coast”

My eyes darted through her. She felt them. She laughed.

“I mean just so I could see a real sunrise. So I could see the sun rise over the water.” Even though her eyes were on me the whole time, they suddenly pierced through me. “Believe me, Ash, my heart's on this coast.”

The air became so heavy in that moment. So heavy. Like when it drizzles out. When the rain just hangs all around you. When the water is the air you breathe.

I couldn’t hold it much longer. I couldn’t let it all just hang around me. I had to let the drops hit the ground. I turned away. I swiveled around and faced the orange sky.

Suddenly a yellow lily found it’s way in front of me. A yellow lily crept it’s way into my hands. Once again, a yellow lily pulled me out of everything I was hiding from.

“Where’d you get this?” I kept my eyes on it’s petals. I was too afraid to look anywhere else.

“Oh that is a secret, Miss Davies.”

She leaned over me, still facing the opposite direction. Her hand went to the other side of my legs, as her body hung over my lap.

I was forced to look at her then with a soft smile.

She giggled, but I could still feel the intensity in her eyes. I could still feel the moment that was unfolding all around us. The moment where everything was going to change.

I held my breath. I stared into her eyes. I heard the sea gulls behind me. I could see the orange sun sneaking up in the distance.

She smiled. Her crooked teeth never looked more perfect. I moved my hand to her face and pulled a loose strand behind her ear.

Almost like we were toeing what we thought might be cold water. Like we were too afraid to let our warm bodies jump right in. But eventually we did jump. Eventually we soaked our warm bodies in that water.

“So you getting ready?”

It takes me an eternity to peel my eyes away from the window. It takes me an eternity to see Spencer sitting beside me. I feel flustered and frustrated. This was a moment I didn’t want to be taken from. I can always count on Spencer to help walk me out of the past. To hold my hand and carry me through the present.

But this was a time that I wished she’d let me drown in it. I wish she’d let me stay in it’s safety.

“I guess so.”

I look down at the flower in my hand. It’s petals are all missing. It’s petals are all scattered on the floor. I can feel her eyes looking at them. I can feel her eyes looking into my intimate past. I can feel her eyes looking in on places she’s not allowed.

I hate her eyes looking.

She of course is asking if I’m ready to go home. Apparently this hospital thinks I am. They think I can breathe on my own. They think my heart can keep beating without that machine. They think I'm ok to live on my own again.

I’m not so sure they’re right. I’m not so sure I’m ready. I'm not so sure I can live on my own. But I have no choice. Tomorrow I get to walk out of this hospital. I get to walk through those sliding glass doors. Carrying nothing but my crutches. Bringing nothing with me but my fear.

“You like lilies?” It seems like she knows she might have walked in on a moment. She looks like she knows she’s intruded on something. She keeps her eyes on the flowers. I’m sure she finds safety there.

I wish I could.

“I used to.”

So much said in that cryptic sentence. So much said that could make her curious. And she is curious. I see her eyebrows furrowed. I see her mouth forming the words. And then I see her closing her mouth. I see her thinking better of it.

“Lilies are my favorite flower. Hands down. Totally makes me think of home.”

“Makes you think of Ohio?”

She laughs, and I feel stupid. She told me she lived in Ohio, that she grew up there. Why is she laughing.

“No Nantucket.”

I’m flat out frustrated now. I don’t like feeling dumb. Especially when I know I’m right.

“I thought you said you grew up in Ohio.”

I think she notices my frustration cause her words come out really fast. Like she can't get them out there quick enough. Like she wants them to make me feel better. Like she needs them to.

“Oh no no, you're right, Ohio is my home.”

She nods her head, looking back to the vase on the table between us. As much as I don’t want to, I look there too. My eyes go to them like they’d go to a car accident.

“...but Nantucket is where my heart is. My family vacationed there every summer. Well, every summer till we moved out here." Something flushes over her eyes. Something so unreadable. Suddenly I feel like I'm the one intruding.

And then it's gone. Once again, she's Spencer. But I'm still feeling frustrated.

"Man, those summers were the most amazing times of my life. “

I’ve never been there. I’ve never cared to go there. I still don’t. Suddenly I don’t care so much about where anyone’s heart is. I don’t care where anyone’s heart lives. But she doesn’t seem to care. She keeps talking. She keeps talking about her heart.

“It’s the most pure place. It’s so untouched, they're like no chain stores. It's practically just you and the beach.”

I hate the sound of this place. I don't think I want to have anything to do with her heart.

“I found myself out there, you know. That's where my heart is. I think it'll always remain there. Sitting happily on a tiny island on the east coast, twenty six miles out to sea”

And then I realize why I don’t want to hear any more. I realize why my chest keeps growing tighter and tighter. I know why hearing Spencer talk about where her heart lives is killing me. I know why it’s stabbing me where mine used to be.

Cause where her heart lives sounds so close to where mine lives. Her heart is practically mine. Except I’ll never find mine again. Mine’s so much farther away than twenty six miles.

Mine’s six feet under.

[Suerte]

Chapter Five: Homes

It’s a Sunday. It's morning and it's sunny out. The air is warm. This is the day I go home. I’m already in a cab on my way there. I’m in a worn in cab by myself. There was no one around to come with me.

I wish Kyla were around. I wish she lived near by. I wish she were next to me for this drive. I wish it were Kyla bringing me home.

I wish too much.

I always wished for a home. I never had one growing up. I only had a house. I had a bedroom. A bedroom with four photo covered walls and a ceiling with a fan. But it wasn’t what so many others had. I couldn’t feel anything inside that house. I never felt a family there. I never felt a childhood. I never felt anything. I lost a home when my father walked out the front door. When I couldn't follow him.

When I couldn't follow him because I could barely walk myself.

It was only two years ago that I found what I'd been missing. When we bought our Malibu beach house together. That's when I found a family. That’s when my house turned into a home.

Now here I stand on a sunny Sunday morning in front of our home. Now I stare at our front door. Suddenly it doesn’t look right. Suddenly it looks like the door my dad walked through. Suddenly I'm a little kid. Suddenly I'm that kid without a home.

Once again I’m staring at a house.

But I know it's far more than that. I know what lies between those walls. I know what's below that ceiling. It's so much more than empty space. A war zone is brewing behind that front door. My former life is waiting inside. My former life with all it’s bullet memories. Bullet memories waiting to shoot right through me. I know what rests inside is going to be worse than the quad. I know it’s going to hit so much harder than the fresh air that swept around me.

This is going to hurt. This is going to be hell.

I crutch my way up the large stairs and push through the front door. I push through it and hold my breath knowing exactly what’s to come.

I had no fucking clue what was to come. I had no clue this house was so much more than a war zone. This house already went through the battle. This house only holds what's left. It only holds the dead bodies. This house is a cemetery.

I come to a full stop in the doorway. My breathing stops. My breath disappears as I see the first ghost. As I see her checkered vans sitting happily beside the welcome matte. One is flopped over the other. They're teasing me. They’re pointing their fingers and snickering. They’re whispering to me that she’s just inside.

And I’m still foolish enough to believe them.

I wobble through the living room. I hear my breath coming out faster and faster. I feel the tears falling harder and harder. I find her surfer magazines on top of the wooden coffee table. One of them is even open. One of them is still waiting for her. Waiting for her to come back and pick up where she left off.

Just like me, they're waiting for her to simply come back.

My lips are quivering as I limp away from this room. As I try with all my might to move faster. As I try to swing my body with those heavy crutches faster.

I don't even know what I’m running from. But I know I’m never going to escape it.

I pass through the kitchen. My eyes catch her Lucky Charms on the counter. The box is opened on top. I know the cereal is stale inside. I move faster. I try to move before anything else jumps out at me. But I’m not fast enough. I can see her scribbled grocery list on the fridge. I see it held there by a red plastic letter A. I almost trip over myself as I hobble down the hall. I almost fall over as I reach the bedroom. Our bedroom.

I hold my hands out to the panels of the door way. I hold on for support. My crutches are on the ground. They weren’t strong enough. They weren’t good for anything.

This is the last place I should be. This is where the hardest battle was fought. This room has the most dead bodies. They're scattered all over the floor. They're scattered like our clothes covering the wooden floor. Like our dirty laundry hanging on the corner chair.

Our lives are still inside this room. Her life is still living in this room.

I gasp as I see her favorite beater tank top. I see it hiding inside her favorite hoodie. I see it still molded to her form. I can still see the way she ripped both right from her body.

I close my eyes. I can still smell the cigarette smoke wafting from our clothes. I can still smell her shampoo. I can still smell our last night.

I bite my bottom quavering lip. I can feel my nose scrunching painfully as my eyes shut tighter. They’re so afraid to look anywhere. They don’t want to see what they know they’re going to find. What they’ve been finding. They don’t want to see everything unchanged. They don't want to see everything cruelly as it was.

I take an eternity to open my eyes. And when I do I find what I’ve been fearing. I find her. I see her draped over the bed. I see her comfort food. I see her treasured photo album. I see her favorite song.

I heave myself over to it. I flop down on the bed and hold her to me. I’m breathless as I hold her beloved afghan to my chest. I smell her in the wool patches. I feel her in it’s soft threads. I lose myself in it’s meaning. I lose myself in everything she’s lost. I cry because she needs it. I cry because she needs me.

I cry so hard. And I only cry harder when I feel something hop into my lap. I only weep as Hunter digs his black paws into my thighs. My soaked eyes stare at him. Stare at our perfectly black cat. The cat she never wanted. The cat she wished were a dog. The cat that would sleep on her stomach during lazy Sunday afternoons. The cat that one day became her dog. The cat that eventually became hers.

Through blurry eyes I see him looking at me. I see him clueless. He doesn't know what’s been lost. He doesn't know she’s not coming back. He doesn’t know his napping partner is forever gone. I hug him to me. I try to comfort him. But he hops out of my arms. He hops out and lightly pads his way down the hall.

I’m all alone. I hear the waves crashing outside. I see the sun piercing through every window. I see our pictures on the walls. I see our smiling faces in the frames. I see my perfume on the dresser. I see her watch beside it. I see my wrecked reflection in the mirror hanging on the open closet door. I see my wet face. I see my broken knee in it’s splint. I see my broken self.

I see myself alone.

I fall back to the bed. I roll to the side. I feel the pain in my leg. I don’t even care. I roll over more. I feel the pain escalate. I still don’t care. I bury my head into my hands. I bury into them and weep.

I’m weeping. I’m screaming. I’m yelling. Panting. Pleading. I’m lost. My eyes close. Everything becomes a blur. This room. This house. That cat. The time that is ticking by.

I open them and I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know where Hunter is. But I do know one thing. The vans are still in the hall. The magazines are still opened. The groceries are still waiting to be bought.

Everything is still the same. Everything is lost. She is still gone. I’m still alone. I am still lost.

I hiccup and stare at the wall before me. I stare at the tree tops I can barely see through the window. I reach behind me and pull something from my back jean pocket. I pull the rectangular card in front of my face. The top left corner is already bent. I hold it there before my eyes. Letting it block those tree tops. Letting it block the black and white pictures on the wall.

I stare at the blue numbers before me. Her handwriting isn’t scribbled. Her handwriting is round and girly. Her handwriting is perfect. I’m not running from her handwriting. I’m not running from my last memory with her. Not at all. I’m running back to her. I'm running towards our last time together. I’m only running a few hours back.

“It’ll be ok, Ashley.”

Her eyes completely contradicted her words. Her eyes screamed that her words were a lie. She knew it. I knew it too. I knew it deep inside. I knew it all over. I knew it wasn’t going to be ok. I knew it was going to be hard. I knew what awaited me on the other end of this cab ride was going to tear me apart.

That’s why I didn’t say anything. That’s why I could barely nod. That’s why my chin quivered.

We stood outside for a few moments. We stood there till the driver coughed. Till we both knew it was time. Till we both knew I had to leave.

She moved towards me to give me a hug. I awkwardly returned it. And it wasn’t just because of my crutches.

She whispered “Bye Ashley.”

I felt a little surprised when I whispered “Thank you Spencer”. She looked just as surprised when I pulled away. She smiled half heartedly. Somehow she knew this was a time that she probably shouldn’t give me a full one. She knew I was fragile. And she knew it wasn’t long till I was going to fall to the ground. It wasn’t long till I was going to break into a million little pieces.

I don't know how she knew. I don't even know if she did. Maybe I wanted her to know. Maybe I needed her to.

I tried to give her a smile. But it only made my chin shake more. It only made one tear fall off my cheek. And as I turned to get in the cab I think she saw the tear. I think she had one of her own.

“Wait.”

I held open the door and saw her concerned face. For once she looked worried. For once she didn’t look so composed.

“Here.”

She held out a card. A card just like the kind you used as flash cards in grade school. The kind that helped you remember something important. Remember something you needed to know.

“I know we’re going to see each other still when you come back for therapy. But if you ever need...”

She glimpsed down at her shoes. I looked there too.

“...if you ever wanna talk or anything, give me a call.”

I looked back to her eyes and saw she meant it. I nodded and softly thanked her. I slammed the door shut and gripped her card tighter. I held it so tightly between my fingers.

I held it just as I’m holding it now. I stared at the numbers in the same way I’m staring at them now.

As I lie here on our bed my grip strengthens on them. I hold her card so close as I reach out for the phone. As my fingers shakily find the blue numbers before me.

I lay on the bed and cry harder as the dull ringing begins. As it reminds me of the hospital. As it reminds me of my lonely heart beating.

Her "hello" rattles me. My sobs shake me. Shake me as I hear them run over the photo covered walls. As they bounce off the ceiling with the fan. As they echo through this empty house. As they remind me of how alone I really am. How empty everything really is.

I hear her talking and wish she were here. I wish I could see her. I wish she could help me. I wish I weren't so alone.

I close my eyes and wish I were home.

I close my eyes and wish too much.

[Suerte]

Chapter Six: Snow Days

For two weeks I slept in that hospital. And during those weeks I slept through it. I slept right through goodbye. When my mind wouldn’t wake up, when my body wouldn’t move. I missed it all. I missed the words spoken. I missed the tears shed. I missed the hugs. I missed the chance to grieve with everyone else. And I missed the chance to tell them what she really wanted. To make sure her final wishes were granted.

I couldn’t tell them she never wanted to be buried.

But that’s where she is. She’s down deep in the earth’s dirt. And it kills me. Even though Kyla and the Carharts told me what a beautiful service it was. Through choking tears and fumbling lips they said it was just what she would’ve wanted. But I know it wasn’t. I know it was everything she never wanted.

They didn’t know that though. How could they? Why would they? Why would a twenty five year old bright eyed goofy girl tell anyone where she wanted her ashes scattered?

She wouldn’t, but she told me. She told me so many times, even when I told her not to. Even when I clasped my ears and shook my head. Even when I couldn’t bare the thought. When I couldn’t handle hearing the hypothetical-ness of it all. I still heard her. I knew she wanted her ashes scattered over the ocean, right outside of Hunting beach. She wanted them there for all the obvious reasons. For all the ones that hit me right where my heart still beats.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her parents it wasn’t what she wanted. Their eyes were just so old. Their faces were just so tired. They looked like they had aged twenty years in those two weeks.

And I just couldn't make them age any more.

So I kept it to myself. I bit my lips. I bit them hard and held back those heavy tears. Once more burying the burden of all I couldn’t do right. Once more I went along with what I knew was wrong.

Five weeks later and I’m still carrying it. Five weeks since she left me and I still haven’t said goodbye.

Five weeks later and I’m sitting on her favorite chair on our deck. I have no clue how I got out here. I have no clue why I’m out here. But I’m here none the less. A living house sits behind me. I’m too scared to go back in there. I’m so scared because I realize what’s in there now. It’s what I’ve slept through. It’s what I’ve been avoiding.

Goodbye’s behind me. Goodbye’s waiting for me.

I breathe in deeply. I don’t know what time it is. I have no clue when I got off the phone with Spencer. But I can see how the sun’s shifted. I see it sitting further in front of me. I know that sun well enough to know it’s late afternoon. I know by the way it’s brightness has turned orange. The way her rays are starting to wave goodbye to the beach goers.

I’m not sure what was said on that phone call with Spencer. I’m not sure I said anything at all. All I wanted was to hear her. All I needed was to hear her. I needed her to help me. But I don’t think I could. I don’t think I heard anything from her.

I think I only heard myself. I think I only heard my sobs.

I can’t tell you what’s happened since then. I can’t tell you what’s filled the hours between when I called Spencer and when I got out here. All I know is the time that’s slipped through my fingers. How it’s glided through them like sand. But just like those tiny grains, I have no clue where the minutes have gone.

I know Hunter visited me briefly. He stretched his back against my hand that was draped over the arm of this chair. It frightened me at first, but then it comforted me. It completely comforted me.

I wasn’t alone.

I close my eyes and breathe in the air. It’s so fresh. It’s the freshest hit I’ve ever taken. I would start crying if I had any tears left inside. If I had anything at all inside, I’d weep. But I'm spent. I've wasted everything I've had.

“Ashley?”

I jump at the smooth voice. I sit up and glimpse behind me. I see a soft smile and light eyes looking at me. At first it frightened me.

“I'm sorry...the door was open, I hope you don't mind...”

Her voice trails off as she slowly walks over to the chair next to me. She sits down and I’m comforted.

“How you doin'?”

Because I’m not alone.

Turning back around, I softly say “I don’t know” like I were merely talking to myself. I glance over to her. She’s in normal clothes. She doesn’t have that name tag on. She looks more real than she ever has.

“Well...” I catch her looking down at her hands, “...I’m glad you called me.”

Her eyes come back to mine and she has this look in them. This cross between kindness, sympathy, happiness, and sadness all at once. I have no clue how she does it. How she manages to carry so many emotions. And how they all make me feel better.

“To be honest...” I glance down at my hands too, “...I didn’t really know who else to call.”

I can see her nodding slowly in the corner of my eye. It becomes so silent. I hear the waves tumbling. I hear a little girl laughing far away. I hear everything. Suddenly I’m so very aware. Aware of Spencer sitting beside me in my chair. Aware of me sitting in Shawn’s. Aware of how wrong all of this is.

All at once I’m aware of my suffocating guilt.

“Do you ever wish it felt like February out here?”

And just like that she's trying to pull me out of it. She tries to pull me in another direction. I look towards her with eyes that still carry the weight form before though. With eyes that aren’t so easily fooled. With eyes that will not be pulled from my guilt.

But I want to be taken. I want to be lifted from it. I want know where she’s trying to take me.

“What do you mean?”

“Right, I forget everyone’s not from Ohio like me.”

She lets out the tiniest giggle, it looks like she's a little embarrassed. She turns away and squints out in front of her. She keeps her eyes there for a few moments before continuing.

“But there are some days where I miss winter. Some days where I remember it so well. I remember what it’s like to wake up on a cold morning and just know that it’s gonna snow. Just being able to smell it in the air, see it in the sky.”

Her voice softly pauses as she nods her head absentmindedly and it only makes me more curious. There’s something so personal about her voice. Something so private. I can vaguely see her eyes flickering back and forth. It’s like she’s testing herself. Testing this road she’s about to walk on

“In Ohio we didn’t have a lot of snow days, you know. Snow was pretty routine out there, we knew how to handle it. But then there was an occasional storm that no one was prepared for and school would be called off...And man, they were the best.”

Her eyes are so far away now. She’s looking way past the ocean before her. She’s staring into the years behind us.

“My dad would always hang around with us. Either work was called off for him too or he’d take a sick day...mom worked at the hospital so she never really had one with us.” There’s a meaningful pause, one that includes more testing, one that makes me more curious.

“...Dad was the best though. He’d arrange these like snowman contests. I mean he even got my oldest brother Glenn involved. Glenn wasn’t into that whole family thing then, you know how you are when you’re barely a teenager.”

Her eyes turn to me and it’s so endearing. You can feel her memories with those eyes. I can feel everything she’s describing. I feel everything I’ve never really known.

“Dad and I would always pair up. Glenn and Clay would always complain, shouting” she pauses, throwing on her best teenage boy voice ‘That’s not fair!’”

She starts chuckling and it surprises me when I am too. I find comfort in it. I think she does too

“Yeah...” And then her eyes are gone. Her eyes are right back in the past again.

“Then we’d all run inside with our slippery boots and red noses. We’d make hot chocolate and fight about who really won. It always ended up as a three way tie. And then we’d move on to a board game or a movie. Where more fights always ensued about what movie we’d watch or who won whichever board game we settled on.”

She smiles and it’s completely meant for herself. A smile she didn’t even know was coming. Like an unexpected old friend popping in to say hello. It’s a smile she hasn’t felt in a long time.

And seeing her with that friend on her face, I realize I’ve never seen her more happy.

”Snow days were all about my dad...I'll never forget them.”

I believe her. I believe they mean a lot to her. I can feel how much they mean. I think she just shared a huge part of herself with me. And I think I'm happy she did.

We both become quiet, the silence falling on us like rain. Everything becomes so peaceful. So calm. My heart’s not beating outside of my chest anymore. My breathing is even and slow. My eyes are heavy. I’m so tired. And for a minute I almost forget where I am and what’s around me.

“You know, it never goes away...” I turn to her and she’s looking at my chair, again it’s like she’s talking to her self. I almost believe she is until she looks straight into my eyes, until she makes me swallow hard. “...but it gets easier.”

She looks different. She’s serious. She’s looking through me. The only other time I’ve seen her like this were the times she told me about my physical health. When she’d tell me my how my heart was beating just fine. When she’d remind me I was still alive.

“All of this...what you’re going through...” Her eyes still seem far away, they still seem like they’re resting somewhere else. Like she’s seeing something other than me. “...it never goes away completely, but every day it gets a little easier.”

And I finally get it. I understand she’s still doing it. She’s still reminding me that I’m going to be fine. That everything will be ok. And I still don’t believe her. I turn to the ocean that once offered comfort. I turn to the ocean and find what contradicts her words. I find everything that tells me it’s not going to be fine.

“Yeah...” A sharp laugh cuts through my lips “...sure.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but believe me, you will get through it.”

She’s facing straight ahead. She’s not looking at me, she’s not asking for questions. She’s not giving any answers. She’s just leaving it at that.

I keep my eyes on her though. I keep looking at her, searching for everything I know she’s not going to give me. Searching for anything. Searching for what’s making her words ring inside me. Searching for why I suddenly feel a connection. Searching for why so much inside this unbelievable mess is starting to make sense.

“Spencer?”

She turns back to me, a calm smile on her face. Her eyes at ease. I begin treading carefully. I’m walking so very quietly now. I don’t want to intrude. I don’t want her to see my curiosity. I don’t want her to see my need to look into places I’m not allowed.

“What’s in Nantucket?”

The tone in my voice is sad. The tone in my voice knows the answer before she could ever give it to me. And the way her face looks. The way something flushes over it so quickly. Something she couldn’t control or hold back. The sadness washing over her before she had time to realize she were wet. It gives me my answer.

“Snow days.”

I feel the strong words hit me like a slap in the face. I feel every ounce of her vulnerability pierce through me. Suddenly I feel like I’ve seen all of her. Suddenly I feel like she let me intrude for the briefest second.

Her eyes are so steady and I know the words she's about to say are smothered in truth.

“Snow days are in Nantucket.”

And then the second is over. One simple nod and she faces away from me. Like that, she’s shut me out. I’m not looking in on private places anymore. They're all locked up and hidden away.

But I'm still looking at her. I'm still trying to search through the darkness. I want more. I need to know what she means. I need to know. But I know I’m not going to find out today. Her eyes have already left me. They’re facing the ocean.

After a few moments, I let myself do the same. Finally I face forward and look into my snow days. We both sit there, looking forward. We both sit there, looking back.

And then all that's behind me catches up with me. Everything I've been avoiding. Everything I'm afraid of.. I hear all those ghosts whispering behind me. I remember everything I still have to face. As if she heard them too, Spencer look back behind us. I see her eyes searching through the sliding glass door before they turn to me. Before they search through me.

“So...how do you feel about some dinner?”

I look over to her, staring straight into safe blue. I still can’t look there though. I don't' think I'm ready.. I think she knows it too. I think she sees my fear. I think she understands what’s inside. I think she understands more than she should. More than she deserves to understand.

She stands and offers her hand to me. She holds it out there like it were a life preserver. As if it were the ladder that’s gonna pull me out of everything I’m drowning in.

“Come on.”

I just stare at it for a few more moments before I slide my hand into hers. Before I let her pull me up. I let her pull me out of everything. I let her be that ladder. I hold my crutches in my other hand and finally I face forward. Finally I look up and there it is. Everything from behind me. All my snow days staring me right in the face.

I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I’m scared. I’m so scared. But I feel her hand in mine still. I feel her lightly squeezing me.

“I’m right with ya.”

Her voice holds me up. Her voice is stronger than my crutches. And I believe her. I hold on to her hand so tightly. I thank her with my hand. I give her every ounce of gratefulness I have left.

Then I let go. I let go and start hobbling. I start hobbling my way inside.

I start hobbling towards goodbye.

[Suerte]

Chapter Seven: Twirling Forks

The coffee here is lukewarm. Stale and grainy. It always is. And I drink it. Every last drop. I always do.

I need it. It keeps my hands busy, it keeps my fingers working. It keeps my mind away from this plastic hard chair. Just one out of a bunch in this small circle. This circle that grows smaller with each session. I swear they can all see through me. We’re so close now, they can all see right through my dark eyes.

My physical therapy ended just a few weeks ago. I don’t need those crutches. I’m strong enough on my own. I can walk all by myself now. It only took me two months. Which, while that’s faster than it takes most babies, I still feel so pathetic. I still feel so lost.

I am still so broken.

Maybe that’s why Spencer suggested this. These stupid group therapy sessions. I still have no clue why I listened to her. I still don’t know why I’m here. Sure I know the technical reasons. I know I’m full of issues. I’m full of depression. I’m here because I lost something huge. I lost myself. And maybe that’s why Spencer convinced me to come here. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll never find her again. Maybe Spencer's afraid I’ll never be that girl she never even knew again.

I don’t know why Spencer cares. But she does. And I let her. Someone should.

Stacy, the group leader, seems to care as well. This is my third session and I still haven’t said anything other than my name. Somehow that was enough. They all nodded their heads, whispered pleasant hellos and then were off on their own again. They all cry. They all speak so privately. They all lay themselves on the floor, and let us all watch them undress themselves.

No one seems uncomfortable with it. No one but me.

Jack, the father without his quarterback son, is on that floor right now. He’s curled in complete fetus position, blubbering like a two year old. And here I am, just watching him. His words are sliding across his slippery lips like a car skidding on a icy and snowy road. And like me, we all just watch it. But unlike me, everyone is there to protect him. To stop him from running into that guard rail. To stop him in the way I still wish someone would have stopped us. In the way someone would have stopped her.

In the way I should have stopped her.

I wince as Stacy coos some form of comfort. I can’t hear her words. I need to get out of here. My mind is desperately running from this place. From all these blatant emotions. All these brutally honest words. I shouldn’t hear them. I can’t even voice my own.

I twirl my cool paper cup between my hands. I can hear Jack’s manly sobs subside as I take one final sip of my watery coffee. I take the last of what keeps me grounded in this place. The only thing that connects me to this room, these people. It’s the only thing I share with them.

One black coffee with two sugars.

I hold onto the empty cup. I’m not letting it go till I toss it in the bin on my way out. I look inside it and see those warm Budweisers from so long ago. The ones Shawn would grab for me before every one of my shows. The ones that made me believe all of her encouraging words.

The ones that made my fingers find each string perfectly. Steadily.

I needed those beers. I needed them just in the way I need this coffee now. In a way they taste the same. Lukewarm, stale, and grainy. And I love every last drop.

I never knew why I got into performing. I’ve never known what inspired me to pick up a guitar one day. I sometimes wonder if it was because of my father. If it was the way he looked when he held a guitar. The way he cradled it so carefully. The way he paid such close attention to it. The way it sat in his lap. The way it looked so right there. How it looked more right than I ever did.

Maybe I wanted my father to see me. Maybe I wanted him to know me. Maybe I wanted him to love me.

But one day it didn’t matter. One day I didn’t need anything from him because I gained so much more for myself. I actually genuinely loved playing. I found myself in that guitar. I found myself in my music. I found myself in what I thought was my biggest enemy. What I envied for so long became my closest friend. Six simple strings inside a wooden frame and it never let me down. I could always count on it.

It was a long time before I played for anyone. Before I let Shawn into my world. I’ll never forget the look on her face, the awe in her eyes. I can still hear her every word. The way she would tell me how good I was. How “fucking unbelievably good I was”. And I still remember when I actually started believing her. When I actually knew I was good.

But It took years before I finally listened to her. Before I took her advice and got out there. Before I set myself out to perform. It was only five years ago that I actually got myself on stage for the first time. Five years of discovering my life passion. Five years of actually acting on it.

All because of those Budweiser drafts. All because of Shawn.

“Anything you wanna add Ashley?”

I glance up from my past and stare at my future. There’s Stacy looking at me just the way Spencer used to. Like she’s holding her breath on me. Like she’s not gonna let it go till I answer. But her eyes show it’s only a matter of seconds before she exhales. Before she exhales into silence. And unlike Spencer, I think it might be silent forever. I don’t’ think I’ll ever give any of myself to this group. To this decreasing circle.

My cold eyes stare into her warm ones.

She exhales.

“Well that’s it for tonight. Great session guys,” She folds her hands in her lap, finally looking away from me “...I’ll see you all next week.”

I’m the first one up. I always am. I slide my bag over my arm, tossing my empty friend into the garbage bin. I hear the door close heavily behind me. Shutting me out from all the others. Shutting me out of my third week of therapy. Three weeks of worried eyes on my cheeks and comforting hands on my heavy shoulders.

All because of those dark coffees. All because of Spencer.

I get into my new car. I can still smell the leather. I used to love that smell. Now it just reminds me. It just reminds me of how much can change. Of how much can be lost. Of everything that will never be found again. No matter how many new cars you buy. No matter how new the leather smells.

I drive silently through the buzzing streets of LA. I don’t listen to music that much these days. I don’t need anything else to distract me. To remind me. It's been a long while since I've lived here in LA. A long while.

I pull into my apartment complex and spot Spencer’s car.

I exhale.

She’s on time. She offered to cook dinner. She offered to help paint the walls. In other words, she offered to keep me alive.

I climb each step slowly, my hand glides along the railing, feeling every drop of condensation. I’m still getting used to these stairs. I’m still working on the timing and rhythm of them. I'm still a long way from jumping the steps blindly, just knowing where each edge is. And as I get to the top of the platform, I need to remember my apartment number.

I still need to remember so much. I still have so much to learn.

But as always Spencer's here. She’s here and she helps me remember. She’s standing outside my forty two. She’s leaning against the door with a nice smile on her face. As every other human being, she’s enjoying her Friday night.

I walk slowly to her. As if it were the first time. As if I didn’t expect her to be here. And in some way, I didn’t. I never expect her to follow through. I mean why would she? What fun could be held on this Friday night if it’s shared with me.

“Hey there.”

“Hey” My eyes flick from her to the door, too scared to look anywhere else. I don’t know why I’m still scared. I can see her tilting her head as she brings a plastic bag in front of her.

“I thought Chinese was in order.”

She’s still smiling. She’s always smiling. And as always, I cough out a laugh, whispering “sure” as I push open the door.

I lead us into the silent front hall. We walk further into the bare rooms of this empty apartment. Every wall looks the same as the next. Big, bare, and white. Blaring white. Everything looks so clean. So perfect. So shallow.

This is nothing like the home I left. There’s nothing here to remind me. But in some way, it all still does. It still feels like the house I’ve always known. And still shows I’ll never have that home again. Shows I'll never be able to forget it. No matter how hard I try to hide it. No matter how hard I try to mask it with perfectly white walls, and pretty wood floors.

Spencer rounds me to the kitchen, already getting to work with laying out food. She knows where every dish, every fork resides. She’s the one that put them there in the first place. She’s the one that did everything I could hardly do.

Kyla was here for that particular fun day. She brought along her boyfriend. Some Aiden character. I couldn’t bother remembering his name; there’s always a new one. Whoever he was he helped them put together my new apartment. They laid out every couch. They set every table. They turned on ever lamp.

Once again I merely watched. Once again I held my crutches in my hands. I held them so tight. I let them take me away from this place. I let them hide me from all that I couldn’t do.

They stayed for dinner. I think we even had Chinese again. Well they had it, I merely twirled my food around a fork. I found comfort that I didn’t have to talk. I could just sit there with wide eyes and watch them all. Watch how they tried to find safe ground. Watched them try to find something, anything to talk about. Whatever was appropriate.

Somehow Spencer guided them through it. As always she talked about everything possible, and never once did anyone lose their way. Everyone stuck right beside her on the safe path she provided.

Even me.

“You want some wanton soup?”

I glance up from the mail I was apparently shuffling through. I see her holding the plastic bin my way, as if further inviting me into it. As if it would make it more tempting somehow.

“No...” I keep my eyes right on her hands “...I’m good, thanks.”

”Your loss.”

It’s so simply said. Said with such cheeriness that's so outside of this situation. She doesn’t even wait for my response before spinning around. I just watch her. I watch her baffled. As always. She catches me watching her but it doesn't deter her. It doesn't make her uncomfortable. She finishes her bite from a large soup bowl.

“How was therapy?” I can tell she’s still chewing her food.

I shrug my shoulders. “Same as the other times.”

She’s looking at me strangely, I can’t read it. She’s not disappointed. She’s not upset. It’s more like she understands. It’s more like she’s been there. Like she’s been the girl sitting on the same stool I’m sitting on now. It becomes silent for a while. I can smell the food. It smells good. I’m almost tempted to have some.

I pick up the fork Spencer laid out for me and dig into one of the few containers.

I swear I see Spencer smile. Like really smile.

“So you ready to get this place in shape?”

I chew my food, another excuse not to talk, and give my shoulders another shrug. I think I see her smile fall somewhat. I think it’s because of me. And I think I don’t like it.

“Yeah..." The word leave my lips before I even realize my eyes are on her again. "...I am.”

She looks down on me. She’s happy again. I like it.

"Good." The word is happy. The word is relieved.

I like making her happy. It’s been a slow realization, but one that means a lot. There’s something I can still do. I still have someone who cares. I still have someone I care about. But once again I’m clueless as to why. I’m still baffled as to how we became these people for each other. The thought is getting to me more and more. The thought won’t go away now.

It’s Friday night. We’re young. She's young. She has a life. Why is Spencer here?

“I mean...” I just can’t help myself, “...as along as there’s nothing else you’d rather do.”

My eyes are trained down, they’re carving zig zag patterns into the dark green counter top. But just cause I can’t see her, doesn’t mean I can’t feel her. I know where her eyes are. I know they’re not drawing any patterns. Nope. I feel them drawing one single line. A thick line from her to me.

“Of course I wanna be here Ashley.” Her hand comes across mine, forcing my eyes to look into hers. But I flinch. I blink and pull away.

I catch her nodding. I feel the air surround us. I feel it so heavy. I just created this moment. I’m the reason for the sudden tension. I’ve never felt it before with her. But somehow, in the last few seconds, I planted something inside this room. I don’t know what it is. It’s not something I can see. But it’s something I feel. It’s something we both feel. And I don’t know when it’ll go away. I don't know how to make it go away.

We continue eating. We continue to eat around the issue. We clench our forks and spin our food. We do anything to keep from looking. It's the first time she's ever kept from doing anything with me.

Time crawls by. It ticks across the floor. I watch her place her dishes in the sink. "So..." her voice sounds familiar, sounds friendly. Sounds like Spencer. And when she faces me again I find her smile. I find the comfort again. I feel whatever was inside here before dissipate.

“...my friend Anthony is having this like dinner party thing next weekend and I thought maybe you’d wanna go?”

Her fingers are crisscrossed before her. It reminds me of the church and steeple game my father would play with me as a kid. The one that never got old. The one I loved for so long. The one I still love today.

“Oh...” The word trickles from my lips. The word is bouncing on the ground, waiting for someone to pick it up, waiting for more.

A party. The last time I went to one of those I never needed to remember. I never needed to forget. I didn’t need anything cause I had everything. I had her. I had her right by my side.

“Come on, It’ll be fun, I promise you’ll have a good time. And...” she stops, smiling wider, “...I’ll be there.”

I don’t know how she does this. How she gets inside my head every time. How she reminds me I’m not alone. How she knows exactly when I need to remember.

”Ehh...I don’t...”

“If it sucks we can leave. Promise.”

I look up to her. Fork sitting tightly between my rolling fingers. I exhale.

“Ok.”

Her hands clasp below her chin, the smile spreads across her face like wild fire. I can feel it's heat radiating right off her body. I feel it so warmly. I feel it spreading to my own body. My own face.

“Excellent.” She looks down to the floor for a second, before she whirls past me. “Onto the nights duties then.”

I start picking up the left over containers, putting them in the fridge. I can hear her down the hall. I hear her ruffling through the closet. Doing God knows what. I don’t even care. She’s running this show. She’s guiding this ship. I’m merely a clueless passenger. I’m merely putting the leftovers away.

“You play?”

I don’t need to see her to know I’m no longer that passenger. To know I’m far from it. The pilot just thrust his gear into my amateur hands. Right into my shaking, unsteady hands.

I slowly turn around and find just what I expected. I see her holding my sticker covered guitar case. I see her holding the one thing I carried into this apartment. The one thing I had to hide before anyone saw. The one thing that’s mine.

She has a bright smile on her face. A smile that just asked something far too powerful. Meaning more than it could ever realize. I’m completely frozen. I try to form some words. I try to get anything out.

“I...um...”

But I can’t. My lips fumble. My words skid just like Jack’s. My hands need that coffee cup. My hands need those Budweisers. They need my crutches. They need Chinese food and forks.

I can't see that guitar case. I can't see my childhood and my life passion. I can't see my best friend. I can't see what i've always counted on. Because it's not there any more. What I see before me will never be what it was. Those stickers. Those six strings. That wooden frame. They're all strangers.

My hands are bunching together now. They need so much. They're drowning in their emptiness.

And then I feel it. I feel two hands unclasp the tight fists inside my own. I feel them hold onto my empty hands so tightly.

“It’s ok.”

And for once, I almost believe her. I almost believe Spencer. Because I feel her filling my emptiness. I feel her giving me what I need so much. I feel her reminding me of everything I almost forgot.

I grip her hands tightly between my own. I feel my coffee cups. I feel my Budweisers. I feel my crutches and forks.

I remember I'm not alone.

I exhale.

[Suerte]

Chapter Eight: Meeting Anthony

I haven’t seen my friends since the hospital. Since the days of making sure I was still alive. And now that I’m alive. Now that they’re sure of it, we don’t talk so much. We don’t talk at all. I guess that’s kind of my fault. I haven’t picked up the phone. I haven’t knocked on their doors. And I haven’t let them knock on mine. I haven’t even let them find mine. I haven’t given them a new number. I haven’t sent out new directions.

Spencer and Kyla are the only ones with those numbers. With those directions. They’re the only ones who know the details. The details of my new life. My private world.

I thought someone might try. I thought someone might care. I thought someone might want to find me. And I thought I might care when no one tried. When no one cared. When no one found me. But I don’t. I don’t mind being hidden. I don’t mind my new isolated world. I’m safe in here. I’m so safe in these dark private white rooms.

Tonight I’m leaving these rooms though. Tonight I’m taking a risk. I’m making a first step into a new life. I’m letting people into this new world. I’m letting strangers inside here. Surprisingly, I’m not nervous. Surprisingly I’m not anything at all.

Or maybe that’s not so surprising.

I’m sitting in Spencers car, relaxed in my tight jeans, tank top, and easy heels. I didn’t know what to wear, and frankly, I wasn’t going to change even if it didn’t fit the bill. That’s just who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. Some how it comforts and unnerves me. The way some things never change.

Spencers in a short jean skirt with some vintage T-shirt. The necks been cut to give it that 80’s feel. It’s cute. It’s not what I expected.

Of course a person will never find what they expect when they have no expectations to begin with. And I don't have those. If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that expectations only lead to disappointment. Hope only leads to loss. And I’m not setting myself up for either of those any more.

I watch the cars that pass us. I’ve never been a passenger person. I’ve always been the driver. I’ve always been the one in control. I’ve always held everything between my strong hands. But those days of controlling are in the past. Those days ended when she took the wheel. When she was in control.

When she held everything between her strong hands. When everything fell straight through them.

I flick my eyes over to Spencers hand on the stick shift. She drives an old Jetta. The kind that are more boxy than round. It’s black. It’s the opposite of everything I expected her car to be. You know, if I had given it any thought in the first place. I figured her car would match her eyes. Would match her handwriting. I thought it’d be bubbly. Peppy. Pastel and pretty.

But it’s not. It’s not and I like it.

These seats are worn in. I’m sure this car got her through college. Probably high school too. I wonder if her parents bought it for her. I wonder if it was a graduation gift. Nothing too extravagant, but nothing too shabby for their daughter.

Maybe she worked for it on her own. Maybe she spent two summers in some ice cream parlor earning money. Saving for it. Little by little. Paycheck to paycheck. Making her parents so proud the day she pulled into the drive way, honking it’s beaten down horn.

I find myself smiling when I hear her voice.

“You excited? Maybe just a little bit?”

She has both hands on the wheel. Both eyes on the road. Easy smile on her lips.

“Sure.”

I lie. She laughs. She knows.

“Well I promise it won’t be anything too big. Just a few of us.”

“Whatever.”

I’m honest. She laughs. I let my eyes creep to the side, watching her so casual. So relaxed. So natural. She’s almost always in her element. Almost.

She’s only broken once. Only once did she crack just the tiniest bit. For the briefest moment her inner private light shone through. Snow days let their secret fingers pull open a locked door. Pulled it open for a second. A short moment in time. And then they closed that door. I haven’t seen them since. They’re long gone now, just like the winter that’s completely passed us.

“We’re here.”

I feel the car park and have to look around to make sure we’ve really arrived. I didn’t expect to arrive so soon. I look up to the small house on a nice residential road. I keep my eyes on it as I leave the car and shut the door. Spencer smiles back at me as she leads us up the three small steps to the front door.

I take a deep breath as she opens the door. I take a deep breath thinking of what might be inside. Thinking of what would be worse to find. A large group of unfamiliar faces or a small circle of curious eyes. I don’t know which I’d rather.

I exhale when I remember not to care. When I remember not to expect.

The door opens to a warmly lit living room. Music plays softly in the background. A handful of people are sprinkled about. Some are in the kitchen connected to this room. Some are on couches. Some are out on the deck I can see through the kitchen door.

Offhand I’d say there are about fifteen people here. A number that was never enough for me. I've always needed a large crowd. Needed noise. Needed chaos. I needed to feel alive.

Fifteen is middle ground. Fifteen is friendly. Fifteen allows a person to step into the background. Fifteen allows me to fit in.

Suddenly fifteen’s enough for me. Suddenly it’s never felt better.

A tall and lean guy walks up to us. His hair is a perfect mess. Each wayward strand comes together to form an organized whole. He's wearing deep blue fitted jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. As he gets closer to us, I notice a yacht club emblem sitting on his heart. Sitting there like an absolute oxymoron. Sitting there telling me this shirt was bought at a thrift shop. I just know this guy is not the sailing type.

“Spence!” His voice is smooth. He winds his arms around her and gives her the hug of his life.

“Hey you” Spencer equally coos. He gently places her down, hands remaining on her hips. I begin to wonder if these two have some sort of past. How long they dated. They must have with the easiness between them.

“Oh hey Ant...” she keeps an arm around his tiny torso as she turns, extending her other arm towards me “...this is my friend Ashley.”

He shakes my little hand between both of his, “Hey Ashley, I’m Anthony...” looking straight into my eyes he sincerely continues, “...it’s an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

I understand their easiness now. I understand it all too well. I understand as Anthony's homosexuality comes into focus. I've always had good gaydar and some things never change.

I feel his hands still safely sitting around mine. He smiles and it makes me smile.

“You too.”

“Well what can I get you hot ladies to drink? Wine, beer...” he throws Spencer a crooked look, eyebrows raised “...martini?”

It’s in this moment that I realize these two are more than best friends. They share a connection deeper than that. A connection where there’s an inside joke for every moment. Where they find each other in a simple drink.

Where secret worlds rest inside martini glasses.

“A beer’s fine, asshole.”

She playfully punches his shoulder. He grabs his arm in mock pain. They both laugh. I don't join in. I stand there. I'm awkward. I’m uncomfortable.

“And what can I get you Ash?”

He uses my nickname. I feel more uncomfortable. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. I can feel them whispering. I can see them cupping hands to ears. I need out of here. I need it now.

“Uh...I’m fine thanks.”

I try to hide the flares going off in my eyes. I try to keep my insecurity a secret. I don’t want to concern anyone. I don’t want to upset Spencer. I don’t want to ruin her time. Her party. I don’t want to take away another Friday night.

With a tight smile, I quietly, quickly say, “I’m just gonna grab some fresh air.”

I don’t leave anytime for protesting. I try to leave before there can be concerned looks and questions. I’m fast but not fast enough. I don’t miss the fact that Spencer has both. I don’t miss her feet ready to follow mine. However I hear Anthony pull her into some conversation. I hear Anthony making her laugh.

I hear Anthony becoming my best friend.

I push myself through a door onto an empty deck. I stand in the middle of it. Hugging my body with my bare arms. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. The breeze blows across my face. Across my slightly exposed stomach.

Reminds me I’m alive. I’m here. I’ll be ok.

I am ok.

I shuffle over to the side where a chair sits. My body easily falls down, languidly resting inside it. I’m out of breath. This all feels strangely familiar. I can hear my heart pumping in my throat. I can hear the music’s muted thumping inside. I hear murmuring. I hear it overlapping with the past. I feel so many layers falling on me. I feel my body shifting once more.

I close my eyes and see three months, two weeks, and four days ago.

I see her. My eyes close so tightly. I see her for the last time.

We were at our favorite bar. A dive off of Sunset. I had just finished a show. I had just finished my last show. Of course I didn’t know that then. I knew so very little then.

The usual group poured through the doors as the hours rolled by. The pitchers were overflowing. The laughter roared. The pool tables cracked and snapped. Tequila shot after tequila shot slid down the bar. Slid right towards us. Shawn tipped back every last one. She always did. Tequila was never my friend. She made sure I had plenty red headed sluts. Those I loved and she knew it.

I enrolled myself in an endless game of quarters with Chester behind the bar. He was my favorite. He always had an old t-shirt on. His gray chest hair always peeked through his gold cross.

His quarters always went in.

I remember how many times she left me that night. I remember how many bathroom trips were made. The ones that always included a partner crime. The ones that were becoming too regular. Too routine.

I remember pretending not too notice. I remember pretending not to care. I slammed my quarters. I drank my red headed sluts. I sang drunkenly to my jukebox selections.

I pretended too much. I sang too loud. My quarter missed too many times. I made too many mistakes. I made the biggest mistake of my life. Over. Over. And over again.

The screen door closes like a clap of thunder.

“Hey there...”

I jump at the voice. I find that crazy beautiful face joining me on my deck. A cigarette already fitted between his lips.

“...I thought you might want a beer to go with your fresh air.”

He hands me a dark bottle to match his eyes. One of them is winking at me. I gladly accept it. I finally get a chance to get a good look at him. A chance to see that Anthony is one of the best looking guys I’ve ever seen. Spencer mentioned he was a model slash actor out here. I rolled my eyes at the cliché. They're not rolling now though. He is not that cliche. He could actually make it out here. He has something about him. Something under his perfectly tanned skin and sandy hair. Something behind his smiling eyes and friendly lips.

I take a long sip, hearing a soft pop when the bottle leaves my lips as I hiccup a “Thanks.”

He holds his cigarette near his face and leans on the deck railing. He smiles and blows out a very Italian “Fuhgeta bout it.”

I find myself chuckling lightly. However it’s not enough to pull me from where I just was. It’s not enough to loosen my grip on this bottle. I go right for that bottle again. Swallowing gulp after gulp. My shaky hands hold it to my lips. The hands that still live inside a scary dream. The hands that are right inside my own memory.

“So you from this crazy town?”

I nod. I drink. “You’re from Ohio right?”

He deeply laughs, “Hell no. Jersey born and raised. Can’t you tell?”

I don’t know what he’s asking. What he means. Must be another inside thing. Must be another olive inside a martini glass. I choose to ignore it.

“So you met Spencer out here then?”

“Oh no, Spencer and I go way back. Our families both summer vacationed in the same place.”

A light bulb full of sarcasm and disbelief goes off, ”Let me guess..." an exasperated sigh "...Nantucket?”

“All in one, babe.” He smiles widely.

“Ok, what is the deal with this place?” My eyes open wider, "Seriously." I look down to my crossed legs. My words were rude. My words were soaked in exclusion. I'm tired of secret worlds. I'm tired of being left out of them.

His arms cross, he looks at me for a moment. He suddenly looks different. He's not the same charming and charismatic person. He seems confused. He almost seems hurt. He's not looking at me like before. He's looking at me like long division.

He’s carrying twos and fours, trying to figure me out.

“What do you mean?”

I drink. He carries more numbers. I finish half my beer.

“Well...” my fingers fidget, my hands slide on my wet bottle “...Spencer just talks about it a lot.”

I hold my cards. I hold them close to my chest. But he’s holding his closer. I don’t know if they’re even his cards anymore. Suddenly they look a lot like Spencers.

“Well...” He’s still smiling. He’s still bluffing. “...it means a lot her.”

“Yeah.” I’m beyond uncomfortable. And so is he. I've made him uncomfortable. I've made him protect something. Finally it hits me. Finally I realize I've made him protect Spencer.

And I have no clue what he's protecting her from.

I don't know anything right now. All I know is I need to finish my beer. I need to get out of here. I feel those eyes from the living room. I see those cupped hands. But it's different this time. I see my own hands. I hear my own voice whispering.

The air is choking me. It's suffocating. It's closed off like the tired air inside the empty bottle now gripped between my slippery fingers.

“She hasn’t told you has she.”

His tone has softened, he’s folded somewhat. He’s not asking. And neither am I. I’m running away from this as fast as I can.

“Um.” I stand feeling a slight heaviness in my bones “...I’m just gonna grab another beer. You want?”

A long pause. An eternity. He finally lets it go.

“Nah, I’m good...” His eyes are kind again. “Thanks Ash.”

I meekly smile, gripping my bottle, and open the door. It claps behind me as I step over to the fridge. I go straight for another beer. I pop off the top and drink. I drink and pretend that deck conversation didn’t just happen. I pretend there was no discomfort. There was no need to protect.

I pretend to not care. I look beyond the bottom of my bottle to the warm room. To all the people living a cozy life. I pretend I can’t see them. I pretend there’s no one inside this room.

My bottle falls to my side and I almost believe it. I’m so close. I’m almost there when it all stops. When her face stares right back into mine. When I see her fading into a corner between two people.

When I see Spencer. When I see her just like me. When I see her pretending.

And almost believing.