Beverly Hills, 90210 | 2010

CHAPTER 01

We Can't Just Forget

It wasn't a life that at that time, I could understand. Dylan had broken up with me. We were separated for eight months before the divorce. I knew my next move, before I made it. It seemed logical in that instant, that the fabulous tragedy of Beverly Hills; my home – was the perfect place, and opportunity to just forget it all.

I wanted to forget; I had to. Dylan and I had gone strong for what seemed like a lifetime, and forgetting is just the first scrap of the preferred anything, that I needed. If he didn't want me, someone would.

The haunt of being unable to bear children, still lingered over me – but in that consequence, I had been blessed with a gift regardless. Katie was now eight years old, and in first grade. Pulling her out of school wasn't easy. I knew she loved her environment, and silly playmates, but my heart couldn't beat a second further in the same presence of Dylan's web of lies.

Kelly knew; I told her eventually, what I couldn't admit to, the last night of the Bev High play. She sensed a relationship between Dylan and me, but what she neglected, was the breath of marriage.

Dylan still had feelings for Kelly, and the desire to "live free" as an adult – to sort of, re-live those Beverly Hills Glory Days. He was delusional, but I gave him his space. Space, led to more space – then arguments – then neglect – and finally, divorce. He wanted a child of his own, and wasn't full-proof on adoption. I guess I should just say he wanted a son. I wanted a little girl that I could dress up, and re-live my own youth through – At least that, we agreed upon.

My chocolate minolo's clacked uneven through the airport, as I dodged hurried on-comers and their luggage. Katie clung tight to my leg, never even fathoming the idea of letting go.

"Mommy, how much further?" she whined.

"We're already here." I said, as I bent to scoop her up into my middle-aged arms. "Hold mommies purse."

I handed it to her, as I reached into my pocket for the valet ticket.

"Walsh." I announced, as I handed the ticket over to a strapping twenty-something year old.

"Ah, yes Mrs. Walsh, your Aston Martin is waiting." said the suited cutie, with teeth of pearls.

"Fantastic!" I flashed my own diamond grin. "And it's Miss."

There I was again, breezing through the winds of Beverly Hills. I hadn't been here for the past two years, and Katie just simply had never been. I originally didn't want her to so early-on, be surrounded by all the vanity that was Beverly, but this situation had so quickly become a state of emergency, and Beverly was always around to comfort me one way or another.

"So, this is where you went to school?" Katie asked, curious and sweet.

I laughed. "Yes."

"How long?"

I hesitated, and laughed again. "Half of my life."

"And how about now?"

"Oh no, mommy's too old for school."

She giggled, I winced – some memories were missed – most, still being forgotten. I didn't want my daughter to live through what I did – at least not on that level of intensity. We were crazy as kids, Brandon, Kelly, Steve, Aundria, David, Donna, Dylan, and I. We acted how we wanted, because we could. Most of our parents didn't have much influence at that time, but mine did. I still chose to be outlandish, and slutty at times, but it was high school.

"Wanna help me cram for my history final?" Kelly would ask.

"Sure. Where?"

She'd roll her eyes and laugh. "Where else?"

The Peach Pit was more of a home, than home. We girls spent everyday picking at French fries, and sipping coffees while conjointly studying for each of the crucial many exams.

"I mean seriously, how could you understand this Aundria? My mind is about the project massive amounts of brain goo from my eyes, if I read one more Shakespeare quote!" Kelly complained.

"I concur." Donna slumped into her chair.

"I study." said Aundria, smiling insolently.

Study, she did! Aundria was like a human textbook. Any answer you weren't sure of, she would correct you. Sometimes I'd catch myself taking advantage of her mind, but I needed that 'A'. I wasn't poor minded, but had many rough days.

High school was a job within itself - weekly exams, monthly lectures, and plenty of important nothings. But we had to provide, or suffer the failure. My parents wouldn't let me. They were on me like hawks, ever since birth. Jim and Cindy Walsh were saintly parents – they could never do any wrong in my eyes, or the rest of us. They were all of our parents. When one got in trouble, the rest acted in place, and Jim & Cindy were there to lecture. We called it lecture then, but now it's known as love.

I curved and gazed through the many memories of the streets of Beverly Hills. The wind blew fierce through my blown hair, and reminded me of the many drives Brandon and I had taken in his first car, Mondale, before I got my drivers license. Brandon worked hard to get that car, and was very proud of it. Days, turned months, Brandon kicked ass at the Peach Pit to earn his deserved buck. It paid off pleasantly, before he drifted into his race track habit. He lost thousands betting away his hard-earned paychecks, on popular race horses, and even once got Aundria involved, but as much as I'm glad, so is he, that he was able to be done with that kind of immature standing.

I stopped, and threw the car in park. My sight became suddenly fixated, on a piece of my past. My desire to re-live a life, that almost once took me, was now imitating past-to-present future. There it stood, polished and stuck in an old era of my Beverly, was the old Walsh House.