If you don't know Love Inks, go find them. Listen to 'Leather Glove'.
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Ashley doesn't have many friends. Well, good friends. The kind of friends you can call up from jail or when you are stupidly depressed or feeling insecure as you look at yourself in the mirror for too long-she does not have many friends on that three a.m. phone-call list.
She didn't keep up with too many people once high school was over.
She kept up with even less people after college-after her one year at college, that is.
It's not like Ashley cannot learn. She could sit around and read novels and talk about the various meanings of said novels all day long.
She just didn't want to do that.
She was ready to live, not just spend money and pretend to be going somewhere.
And she lost track of people. Like some of the girls who she used to play with, dolls and braided hair and bubblegum air kisses-she lost track of those girls.
She lost track of boys, too. Like the ones who pulled her hair one minute and tried to date her the next minute-she lost them along the way as well.
Ashley lost people. Or misplaced them. Or forgot them completely.
She was always bad at calling people back or showing up for birthday parties. You'd have to tattoo dates onto her forehead for them to stick-post it notes didn't work, nor messages on machines. Ashley forgets things, people, and whole chunks of her past.
All that empty space inside of her mind is filled up, though.
Ashley's head is filled up with certain memories-sand on the feet, oceans, a parent's grin, a giggle, the sensation of a hand on her back, grins that won't end.
Ashley's head is filled up with tomorrow-how the coffee will smell, the scattering of newspaper, the feeling of a Sunday that has warm sunlight coming through the windows.
Ashley's head is filled up with the few people who managed to be memorable-a sweet sister, a crazy but perfect mother, Travis behind the bar, and Spencer Carlin.
Ashley's head is usually filled up with Spencer Carlin.
It's not on purpose, all these thoughts. All these thoughts just happen and Ashley isn't sure how to stop them. Ashley isn't sure that stopping them is what she wants anyway.
Spencer is a three a.m. phone-call.
Spencer is the voice of reason.
Spencer is bail money and compliments and open arms.
Spencer is a great damn friend and Ashley can't be too hard on herself for these rebellious feelings. It is all too easy to fall for a friend. It is all too easy to long for trust to turn into something more. It is all too easy to look at Spencer and wonder about the softness of Spencer's lips.
That's what Ashley is doing now, thinking about Spencer, thinking about her good friend, thinking about Spencer sleeping below as if they were twelve years old and this is a sleep-over. But Spencer always wanted bunk beds.
And since adults rarely get to behave like kids when it comes to simple things-candy for dinner, toys for gifts-Spencer found a way around this whole matter. With crafty design and a handy father, Spencer got her grown-up bunk beds.
Two nooks cut into the wall, with half a foot between them, all white pine and cream linens and pale lights above each bed... It is kind of magical. Ashley even said so and that made Spencer grin. And so that made it the right thing for Ashley to have said.
They talked for a while, Ashley's head hanging down and Spencer's head lolling to the right. They talked about everything. There were even times when they wouldn't talk and Ashley would stare for too long and Spencer wouldn't look away.
It was odd. It was exhilarating, too.
Now, though, Spencer is asleep.
And Ashley is awake, thinking about Spencer.
Thinking about Spencer and thinking about how quiet it is in Spencer's home, thinking about the moon outside and thinking about what to eat for breakfast. Ashley is rambling around within herself and, though her eyes are blinking from tiredness, sleep just won't come.
So, she silently climbs down and she silently glances at Spencer-face smushed into the pillow and hair askew and absolutely beautiful-and Ashley makes her feet keep moving.
Ashley walks down halls that are as familiar to her as the ones in her own place.
She knows every turn. She anticipates every piece of furniture. She knows just where Spencer's cat likes to stretch out and Ashley pauses in that spot, listening intently and finding that sought after purr.
Pets were never Ashley's thing. She has nothing against animals, not really. They can get fur everywhere but she guesses that that is a small price to pay.
If you like to pay it, that is.
She doesn't, not so much. A pet is a responsibility and Ashley likes to keep responsibilities to a minimum. She pays her own way. She works a bit. She has some fun and doesn't wake up pregnant, doesn't wake up with unknown people in her bed.
Ashley is responsible for Ashley.
That's more than enough.
She kneels down, though, and passes her hand over the belly of Spencer's cat.
The purring gets louder. Ashley smiles in spite of herself.
In the kitchen, with Spencer's penchant for stainless steel and charcoal-grey, Ashley opens the refrigerator and looks at what is on offer.
It's somewhere around one or two in the morning, but Ashley is wanting to eat a little and drink a little. By the time she is done, there is an assortment of cheeses and a couple of slices of ham and some semi-old grapes and a huge glass of lemonade waiting for Ashley's eventual consumption.
She flips on the overhead light and leans against the island in the center of the kitchen and eats and drinks and secretly wishes that Spencer was awake, too.
The cat comes in and hops on the counter, sniffs the air and allows one 'meow' to echo out.
Ashley should shove the cat back onto the floor. Surely it is unsanitary to have an animal that walks around its own toilet near where food can be? Ashley is sure that she has seen Spencer shoo the cat away from the kitchen on numerous occasions and that's what Ashley should do right now.
Instead, she walks over and holds out a tiny bit of ham and the cat daintily takes it.
Ashley smiles once more.
She puts the plate in the sink and she rinses out the glass. She grabs the cat and puts it on the floor, then turns the light back off. As she walks back to Spencer's room, Ashley thinks how very domestic this all is. As if Ashley lives here. As if this is Ashley's home and that cat is hers and that food is hers.
Well, as if all of this belongs to Ashley and Spencer.
As if they are already a couple somehow and neither of them will admit to it.
Ashley has admitted to being gay. Everyone knows she is. She's been gay for a long time and she's been out for years. She isn't sure if Spencer is gay or bisexual or straight as an arrow.
There have been mentions of boyfriends. There have been conversations about hot chicks.
There's been teasing and subtle flirting. There's been moments of tenderness that left Ashley breathless and confused. There have been lovers and strange jealousy and days going by without a single word spoken between them.
Ashley always calls first, though.
She can't help herself. Spencer is the one person she cannot lose. Spencer is unforgettable.
Ashley creeps into the room, knowing which parts of the floor creak and avoiding them with practiced precision. One foot is on the first built-in step and Ashley's hands are already reaching out, ready to pull her body upward and back into that comfy cocoon, but Spencer's groggy voice breaks the silence.
"Ash...?"
"Shhh. It's okay. Just got hungry."
"Can't sleep?"
"Not yet, no."
"Then join me."
Ashley is not sure if sharing a bed with Spencer will help her sleep or not.
"Okay."
It's just so easy, you know? Just so easy to give in and get closer and want and fall in love with a friend, fall in love with the best friend, fall in love with the only friend that matters at all.
Ashley isn't sure when it happen, when these feelings went from neutral to nuclear, but she is not trying very hard to fight them. Ashley isn't trying at all actually.
She climbs in beside Spencer and the girl is warm with slumber and, without any prompting, Spencer turns into Ashley's body and their legs weave together like threads upon a loom.
The air leaves Spencer's mouth and creates a wet heat on Ashley's neck, which makes the air leave Ashley's mouth in a strangled and blissful sigh.
"You know... I like bunk beds..." Spencer says with a yawn and then an arm moves and it wraps lazily around Ashley's side.
"Mmm hmm..." Ashley confirms, finally feeling the effects of the long night and the food and Spencer's body so near, and her eyes close.
"...But this is a better way to sleep..." Spencer concludes in a whisper and the arm tightens its hold for just a second before it relaxes again and breathing settles and deepens.
Ashley feels a dream beginning, the spinning of wild tales and the creation of fanciful yarns, lulling her further from the waking world and into a space of make-believe-where you get what you hope for, where you face your demons, where you find all the answers and all the questions-and Ashley's lips part just once before sleep claims her for its own.
"Much better, Spence."
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