The past was nothing to her; offered no lesson which she was willing to heed.
The future was a mystery which she never attempted to penetrate. The present alone was significant . . . - Kate Chopin
But they teach you to confront the past, talk it down from the ledge you put it upon and wait for that hand to beckon you near. You'll spend days, months, years. You'll spend the rest of your life waiting, that's what they teach you.
Maybe you'll get a look. Maybe you'll get a word or two. Maybe you'll reach out to yourself and that other you will finally reach back. That's what they tell you to hope for, to work for.
That's what they tell you to dream of when the dawn seems too far away and the night seems too damn close.
And the now is all about you, isn't it?
Not in a selfish way. Not in a self-centered way.
But it is your feet on the floor and it is your hair in your face and it is your heart that beats like a drum and it is your fingers that twine around each other as you still shake those longings loose.
Shake them loose and try to set them free. Try to set them free and be in the moment - on this road, leaving Texas behind and entertaining the flatlands of Oklahoma, staring at the dark clouds as they build in the distance.
I can be in this moment. I can live here. I don't have to fall back or jump forward. I can just be.
Tethered to you, though, are all the things you ignore.
Drifting above you like a kite, dipping and diving in the atmosphere, prettier than it truly is and father away than you want them to be.
Like the hit you still miss.
Like the family you still crave.
Like the kiss you still taste.
And the now is all about you, isn't it?
In every way you want and in every way you despise, it is all about you.
/ / /
El Reno does not offer much, but like the middle of every journey - it is to be expected - a lull, with no trails to explore and no canyons to traverse, just a place off the interstate.
Madison points out the restaurant proclaiming that they are the 'proud makers of the world-famous Fried Onion Burger' and everyone seems to silently agree that this particular stop is worth their time.
Kyla states that it better be amazing or she'll ask for a refund.
And newspaper articles line the walls, showing off a massive meal and a special day and so forth, as they are greeted and seated and fitted with bibs.
"Are they for real?" Madison questions aloud, pointing to the red-and-white checked napkin now resting below her chin.
"If it is messy, it must be good." Aiden replies happily as he leans back and extends his arm, letting it rest comfortably behind Spencer's shoulders. Like a half of a halo, an extension of his love, secure and quiet in its intention.
Spencer, for her part, nods her head in agreement. And she smiles. And she pushes blonde hair back behind one ear.
Spencer is in the moment, a moment that Ashley cannot participate in.
And Ashley is fairly certain that she does not want to participate in it either.
Because their moments are over-lapping with increasing frequency and, unlike Aiden, their intentions are not so clear. Not so simple. Not so honest.
And there is the past that Ashley is willing to focus on, all the wasted seconds with her jaw slack and her eyes glassy.
And there is the past that Ashley isn't willing to deal with, at least not right now, not in El Reno as their food is placed down and bites are taken and comments are made.
Not with Madison getting mustard on her chin and Kyla making fun of the girl and fries being thrown. Not with old men and women staring at the five of them, looks so cagey and stern.
Not with Aiden's arm still hovering so naturally.
Not with Spencer's blank joy, as flawless as it is unreal.
Not with Ashley's own mind awash in mistakes made - recent and otherwise.
"Are you okay?" Kyla's faint voice, too soft for anyone else to hear, coasts into Ashley's consciousness.
Am I okay? Will I be okay? Was I ever okay?
"If I say I don't know... can we leave it at that?" Ashley answers, the smile slight and the eyes tired and the palms pressed together hard.
And Kyla's nod is of understanding, but not without worry.
And Ashley knows that her sister has a right to worry. Ashley is a worried, too.
Because more than a tiny lie, held fast by a river and by moonlight and against wet lips, is the shock of what lingered beyond mutual desire - a sharp flavor as tangible as a fistful of musky earth. A punch to Ashley's gut, sudden and sweet, and if she could have mined that mouth for treasures other than flesh...
Ashley would have.
In a heartbeat, she would have.
No, I don't think I'll ever be okay.
/ / /
It breathes as much as another person, this wanting thing between them, and so it takes up space. It takes up room and makes itself known.
It is not whispering, not now.
Now, it demands.
And whatever shock that might travel through her brain is outweighed by sensation.
The sensation of new-ness and hints of what could be.
Or of what is - Spencer kisses lazily, a girl who needs no practice, and Ashley feels like she is stumbling to keep up.
When stoned or drunk or obliterated, Ashley could manage such things.
But being clean and sober has left her feeling like a novice in so many ways.
This is but one.
Still... Still, Ashley responds and whatever kept them apart just drifts down to nothing, the damp shirt pushing cooly onto Ashley's dry chest.
And fingers crawl slowly up Ashley's arms, they trip higher and higher, further and further, until they clasp heavily along the back of Ashley's neck.
They do not tug. They do not pull. They just rest there, growing hotter as each second goes by.
And Ashley shudders as her own body moves, as she turns standing into an embrace, Spencer in her arms. Spencer's tongue probing and succeeding, reeling Ashley in with a moan.
Her moan. Spencer's moan. Both of them swallowed up by the river and the nighttime and the rest of the world fast asleep.
"God..." Spencer slips away in a rush, mouth bumping into Ashley's as she speaks, words moving as rapidly as the water all around them - a dreamy cascade of some hidden language, one that only the two of them know.
"...this feel so fucking good, you feel so good..."
And what is said only adds to the roar within Ashley's head, blood flooding her senses - like thunder, rolling and cracking the heavens - she cannot hear much more than the twin jumps of a pulse, hers and Spencer's.
And, yet, there is more to this kiss. Winding its way into her system is something wonderfully familiar, something decadent coating this contact.
The red light starts flashing in her mind's eye, no longer at yield and it is begging her to stop.
Stop before all that is left is a head-on collision - broken and battered and oh so damned familiar...
Spencer is shaking and Ashley, for a second, tightens her arms.
As if they are truly lovers. As if she can protect this girl she barely knows from everything.
Even the ghosts in Ashley's body. Even the shadows in Spencer's own soul.
For a second, they act like no one else matters and... for a second... no one else does matter.
But the girl isn't just shaking, she is crying.
And that red light is finally pushing its way into Ashley's vision, blaring out about the smoke that still clings to Spencer's silver-tinged hair and that has seductively whispered its way to the inside of Ashley's mouth.
The spell breaks. And the line becomes miles and miles of steel.
Ashley steps back and watches mutely as Spencer silently sobs, as shoulders tremble.
"I... sorry, I... Just don't tell, please don't tell... I don't know what is going on with me..." And bare feet against the rocks and mud carry the girl away, swaying and gasping with sadness and Ashley feels an incredible weight settle within her bones.
Brick by brick, a house built of stolen impressions and fearful notions and nefarious yearnings lays down upon Ashley's form.
And she just cannot shake it loose.
And all along her teeth, taunting her in the spit, mocking her from branded lips - there is that first love, rearing its beautifully ugly head.
/ / /
Another night in a hotel, in a town that turns out its lights at exactly ten p.m., and Ashley notices that the clouds have finally settled in for the night.
They build and build, carrying lightning in their midst, and so the rain falls in sheets.
The soft glow of the lamp highlights every drop that runs down the window pane and Ashley traces them as they fall - Madison in the shower and Kyla flipping through television channels.
And Ashley wonders if each drop has a personality. If the chemicals combine and make them unique, like snowflakes. And she wonders if they dream of going home again, back to the sky that made them.
Thomas Wolfe says you can't go home again and Ashley knows this to be true.
You grow up and you leave behind childhood. You move away and leave behind parents. You fall out of love and leave behind a broken heart. You get older and leave behind youth.
You are always leaving and never staying.
I was always leaving and never staying, wasn't I?
But she just thought she was moving, just thought she was running.
All the while, Ashley's feet were nailed to the floor.
The drugs made her feel like she was awake, but with her eyes closed. They made her feel like 'home' was only a sniff away, creating days of halcyon behind her dead gaze - all so she didn't have to remember what once was.
A father who loved her, but couldn't stay married to her mother. A mother who loved her, but couldn't deal with heart-ache so well.
I was always leaving. Never staying.
But she just thought she was moving, just thought she was getting away.
In truth, Ashley never left at all - she became translucent, a shell of whoever she used to be, a see-through kind of girl that stood at the front door... One foot out and still both feet in.
And that father that loved her, he didn't know how to fix her. And that mother who loved her, she didn't know how to save her.
And the drinking worked. Until it didn't.
And the drugs worked. Until she needed more just to get by.
And Ashley thought she was so far away from it all.
Until she realized she wasn't.
I was always leaving... but trying to stay... wasn't I?
Kyla, like she has cultivated some type of sixth sense, curls an arm about Ashley's waist and hugs her tightly.
Like Ashley might just fade. Or like Ashley might just get up and walk out.
And she wants to tell her sister all these rambling thoughts, wants to spell out this literature of constant emotion, wants to cut the string and watch that kite disappear.
But Kyla stays quiet and so does Ashley.
And they hold onto one another long after Madison turns out the light and turns off the television, two sisters in El Reno as a storm passes overhead - working out how to keep going and still stick around.
"You'll be alright, Ash... You will." Kyla says and Ashley wants to believe in this statement.
She wants to believe.
And, maybe, right now... she will.
Maybe she'll be alright, in this room and on this trip and with that need still burrowed deep in her gut and with a blonde girl she cannot fully figure out and with those calls she still needs to make and those apologies she still needs to say...
Maybe Ashley will be alright.
For now, maybe she'll be just fine.
And, right now, that's all she can ask for.
/ / /
TBC
