I watched the taxi drive off with my heart. She was gone. I had so much to tell her and all I could say was "You're my best friend."? How pathetically stupid was that. I held the shirt she had given back and wondered why, if she enjoyed sleeping in it so much, she didn't take it with her.

I very slowly made my way to the apartment. I found it hard to believe that this was real. I wanted to hit myself to see if this was really a dream, but I knew it wasn't. She was gone. Whether I wanted her to be or not.

I sat in the taxi, taking a couple glances back at him, hoping he didn't see me looking at him. I loved Michael very much, but Ray? Why is it I enjoyed sleeping so much in his shirt, but not one of Michael's? After all, not only is Michael my husband, he's also in Iraq and one would think I'd want to be closer to him than to my roommate.

I should have taken the shirt when he offered it to me, but I knew in my heart I couldn't. I would think too much of him and not enough of Michael. When I couldn't see Ray any longer, a part of me wondered what I was doing.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. It was the sort of quiet I hated, but I couldn't bear to turn on any music or television. Everything in the place reminded me of her, including the pizza with extra anchovies. I tossed the shirt in the corner, not knowing what to do with it. I didn't know if I'd ever really wear it again, knowing she had slept in it. Was that her way of inadvertently telling me she felt exactly what I felt?

I sat on the couch and just looked out the window to the city outside. Part of me wondered how people could go on when my heart was broken like this. Somehow, it just didn't seem fair.

Abby's apartment was, well, Abby. She maintained a clean place, but I loved that it was homey. It wasn't as messy as the apartment I shared with Ray. Ray. Why does the hurt on his face still burn my memory and why is it I can't help smile when I think of him? I put my bag down and looked around. Abby said I could stay at her place while I looked for my own since she was at Luka's most of the time anyway.

I sat on the couch and looked at the city outside. The lights were so beautiful and…blast! It was too quiet! I needed music. I needed something. If it got any quieter, I would start thinking about Ray again and as a married woman, I couldn't. I needed to think of my husband, dutifully fighting in Iraq.

I didn't know what to do with myself. It was too empty and too quiet. I walked over to where I threw the shirt and picked it up, determined to keep the apartment as clean as Neela had left it. It was, I felt, kind of a way to keep her here; to keep her close to me. Everything was odd now, like I was living in some sort of third dimensional world. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. It was as though I couldn't move any faster, even if I wanted to.

I threw the pizza away. What good was pizza and beer without Neela? Neela. God. I was so close to telling her; to kissing her. Now? Now there's no chance.

I turned on the Louis Armstrong CD Abby had left in.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

This song reminded me too much of Ray so I have to turn it off. The next song fares no better.

Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

Why was every song reminding me of Ray?

I decide on some music. Louis Armstrong always seems to suit the mood when I need a lift. I grew up listening to him, wondering how people could be sad and lonely when listening to him sing or play his trumpet. I find the CD and pop it in. The first song that comes up is one that Neela and I had danced to one night.

Give me a kiss to build a dream on

And my imagination will thrive upon that kiss

Sweetheart, I ask no more than this

A kiss to build a dream on

I can't listen to the song anymore and yet, I don't want to turn it off. I stare out the window, holding on the shirt, noticing how much it smells like her. I walk back to her room, where boxes are stacked, packed, ready to go. I can't help it. I sit on the edge of her bed, bury my face in the shirt and cry. I never cried before, but how do you deal with it when your heart's just been ripped out of your chest?

I can't listen anymore to Louis Armstrong because I find myself thinking back to when Ray and I danced to one of his songs. We were in a silly mood and, the both of us having way too much energy, decided that dancing would wear it off. I sigh when I remember that dance. I felt so safe. I felt as though a nuclear bomb could go off next to us, but I'd be okay because I was in Ray's arms. I sat hard on the couch.

I apparently didn't think things through when I married Michael. I didn't know I'd ever have to think of leaving County, or Chicago for that matter. Michael was a good caring man and I loved him, but did I rush into this thing? Thoughts of the fact that he isn't home and Ray is; thoughts that when I needed him, Ray was always there. Oh, God! Was I prepared for life as a Soldier's wife, dutifully following my husband, no say in the matter, or was I not? I buried my hands in my face knowing that I was more prepared to be Ray's wife than Michael's.

I thought of this last night after STRANGE BEDFELLOWS ended. I wanted to show what I thought both Ray and Neela were thinking. I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know if you do or don't. I had Ray sleeping in her bed, but when I sat down to write it, somehow it didn't go with this story as it is. I didn't intend for it to be TWO SIDES…the story just ended up that way. Anyhow…I don't own Ray or Neela…otherwise, they WOULD HAVE KISSED last night! They'd be together like Robin Hood and his Men in Tights. Like Cowardly is with Lion. Like Willy Wonka is with The Chocolate Factory. Like Alvin is with The Chipmunks. Like Peanut Butter is with Jelly. Like Scarecrow with Mrs. King! You get the idea, right? LoL