Chapter Twenty-Five

When I woke up the next morning, the weight I was so accustomed to having sprawled over me wasn't there. In fact, she wasn't there at all. She left before I was awake, perhaps to get an early start on job-hunting, though I hoped she wouldn't forget about her class near noon.

I wondered if she'd had breakfast, and worried about that even as I ate my oatmeal.

"She probably thinks I'm really mad at her," I sighed into the bowl. Patrick had gone too, although I noticed he had taken a few of my pictures, and I assumed the piece of paper left on top of my portfolio was a note explaining exactly that, so it was just me again.

And I was upset. Not mad, anymore, at least not at her. Somehow, it must have come across to her that she really couldn't talk to me. I must not have made that really clear, that if there was anything she needed to talk about, even if it was how much of a pain I was and that she never wanted to see me again, and she'd already packed my bags and gotten me a plane ticket back to Montana… I wouldn't like it. But I'd listen.

"Why didn't she talk to me? Maybe we could have talked it out, or done something, before she cut."

I worked myself around and around that question for the next hour and a half, until I couldn't take it anymore. There had to be something I could do… but what?

Picking up the phone, I dialed information and said, "I think my friend might be suicidal."

The woman's tone immediately changed from professional and cool to warm and kind, and she spoke in a very gentle voice that reminded me of Diane. "All right, honey. Is your friend trying to commit suicide right now?"

"No," I said, "but she hurts herself and I'm afraid she might."

"Okay, honey. I'm going to give you the number for the National Suicide Hotline, but then I'll go ahead and direct you to them, okay? They can help you."

I nodded, and curled up on the couch. "Okay."

I was very glad the number was toll-free by the time I got off the phone.

The man who'd answered was very nice, and was willing to answer all of my questions. When I told him it was my girlfriend that had been cutting, and that I thought she could talk to me but I'd found out she cut again just the other day and how I was a little upset, he reminded me that I needed to be there for her and explained a little more about self-injury – apparently cutting wasn't the only tactic.

"Cutters aren't usually suicidal," he explained, "that isn't commonly a reason for self-injury. Sometimes being able to talk about what's going on in their life, in their minds, what they feel that's bothering them and making them want to cut again can be a hard step to take. Most cutters are very good at hiding, and are so used to it, it isn't easy to trust someone right away with all their deepest thoughts.

"Kevyn is going to need to know you're there, AJ," he said, softly. "You can tell her that it bothers you that she cut again, but she needs to know that you're still around, and that you still care, despite the setback.

"Cutting is an addiction, often just as powerful as any other, even cocaine. It takes just as much work to stay clean, and just like alcoholics need love and support from their families, so do people who self-injure. She doesn't need to feel like she's losing you, like she's turned you away."

I sniffled to myself at the realization that that's exactly what I had done. "How can I make sure she knows that she can talk to me? I've told her, but…"

Mike, as he'd told me his name was, suggested, "Just tell her again. Explain to her that you want her to be safe, and you don't want her to cut anymore. There are a few clinics out there that can offer help specifically geared for a self-injurer, and you can mention some of those if you like. I can bring up a list of numbers in your area if you'd like."

"Please." I asked him to repeat each number slowly and three different times, to make sure I had them down correctly, and he did so, without hesitation.

"It's good that you called, AJ. That shows how much you care, that you do want to help." I dried my tears with the back of my hand, glad I'd called, too. "I hope some of those numbers can help you even more."

I agreed. "Thanks. Um… can I call again?"

"Sure. Call anytime you need, AJ, the line is open twenty-four hours a day. Any one of us would be glad to answer any questions, and help however we can. You're not alone, and neither is Kevyn."

I thanked him again, and hung up.

Then I called the numbers I'd written down, taking two tries before I had it right, and spoke to a few people there. One was no longer in service; I made a star, so if I called the hotline back I could tell them. One that answered was strictly an inpatient sort of place, and I didn't think Kevyn would go for that, no matter what.

The last one was what I was looking for. They said they had a sixty-day program for self-injurers, and while that wasn't long enough to declare anyone 'cured', it usually provided a decent amount of time to get to some of the underlying problems and help clear them up. Part of it was inpatient, but only for a few hours, and could be adjusted to fit schedules if there was no other way.

I kept mental notes of the conversation, as well as the name of the woman I was speaking with, and thanked her for her help when I'd asked all the questions I could think of and had all the information I needed for the moment.

I had no plans to just spring the idea of treatment on Kevyn. I wasn't sure how she'd take it, and besides, I had to figure out how I was going to make up to her for the way I'd acted the night before.

I had everything set up by precisely five o'clock, which was when Patrick said Kevyn had mentioned being home. I'd called him and asked if he wouldn't mind giving Kevyn and I a night to ourselves. I apologized, because I knew it was so soon after they'd started repairing their relationship together, but he said he didn't mind. Then, he called Kevyn for me and asked when she thought she'd be home, and reported back to me that she had said around five.

Now I just had to wait nervously. I looked around the kitchen, making sure all the candles I'd found were still lit, and that all the place settings for dinner were perfect, making my way out to the living room to ensure the music was just right. Since I'd cleaned just the other day, I didn't have to worry about anything being dusty or dirty.

Going back into the kitchen to fidget, I began smoothing my clothes and finding pieces of lint that I'm sure weren't really there, and picking them off anyway.

I heard her key in the door, and sprinted towards the living room, meeting her just as she walked in.

She blinked, surprised to see me so suddenly.

"Nikka?"

I smiled a little. "Come on, I made dinner."

She heard the music, and couldn't stop a slight smile. Then she walked into the kitchen, and gasped. "Oh, Annika." I watched as she took in all the candles, the music, and all the dishes on the table. "It's beautiful. But… what's the occasion?"

Taking her hand, I led her to her chair and urged her to sit, coming to my knees in front of her, still holding onto her hand. I kissed her fingers, and kept them close to my lips as I spoke. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted last night. I shouldn't have turned away like I did. I'm here for you, honey, I swear to you I am. No matter what. Even if I didn't seem like it last night," I sighed, nuzzling her hand as she cupped my cheek. "I love you so much. It scares me when you cut, because I don't want to lose you. But I shouldn't have gotten angry with you; I was just surprised, I guess.

"You know, I thought when you told me that you'd try not to cut that would mean you'd do it. You're one of the strongest people I know, baby, once you put your mind to something I'm so used to it just happening." She smiled fondly at me for that. "But I understand it doesn't work like that. I want to work through this with you, Kevyn, I know we can. I promise you can come to me with anything, even if it's that you feel you need to cut again, and we'll see what we can do, okay? Wake me up at one in the morning and tell me something that's been bothering you for two weeks and I'll listen.

"I want to listen."

She drew me up beside her, and hugged me tightly. "Thank you, Nikka. But you didn't have to go through all this, just to tell me that."

I kissed her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her. "I wanted to," I said. "I love you, Kevyn."

I felt her almost melt into me, and knew I'd been forgiven. "I love you, too, sweetheart. Thank you for this." She paused, and then asked, "I'm not complaining, trust me, Nikka, but how did you come to such an understanding today?"

I sighed. I wasn't sure she'd be happy with me, but I decided I had to tell her anyway. "I called information and they connected me to a suicide hotline, and they answered all my questions. We talked for almost an hour. I just didn't know what to do, baby, but I wanted to find out more so I could understand. Please, don't be mad," I finished, softly.

"Sweetheart, I think that's quite possibly the nicest thing you could've done. Why would I be mad at you for wanting to understand more what I'm going through?" She kissed my shoulder, and I rested my cheek against the soft red hair.

"I… There's more."

She settled her arms around my shoulders. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath, and said, "They gave me some numbers for treatment centers, and I called them and talked to a lady about one not too far from here. I still have the number, and I remember everything she said, and I thought, maybe… if you wanted… I mean…"

"We'll see, baby. Right now, I don't think it's that bad. But you tell me if you think it does get to that point, and I'll try to discuss it with you, okay?" She kissed my cheek, and nudged me off her lap. "Let's eat some of this absolutely wonderful-smelling dinner, shall we?"

We ate dinner in a rather comfortable silence, broken only occasionally by Kevyn telling me how delicious everything was, and me thanking her.

As we were clearing the table, she insisted on helping, it was obvious to me that she was still a little uncertain about something. The other day, I thought it may have been about the cutting, but we'd discussed that quite a bit. Maybe it was about the treatment center I'd brought up…

"Kevyn?"

"Hm?" she asked, as she took the salt and pepper shakers from the table and returned them to their proper places on the counter.

"Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "Sure, honey."

I looked at her, evenly. "Really?"

She chuckled softly, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the underside of my chin. "You worry too much, Nikka. Honestly, I'm okay."

"All right." I accepted that she wouldn't lie to me outright, and slid my arms around her waist to pull her close against me. She mimicked the gesture, and we stood there in a mutual embrace for nearly three minutes, simply looking into each other's eyes. I can honestly say it was the most informative three minutes of my life.

I leaned forward just enough so that my forehead touched hers. Keeping my right hand securely on her waist, I raised my left hand to cup her cheek, feeling her breath against my lips as she sighed softly.

"What's wrong?" It came out as a low whisper.

She closed her eyes. "Nothing."

"No." That was fiercer than I intended, so I softened my tone. "Don't push me away, Kevyn, please. I know something's bothering you. Let me help?"

Kevyn moved my hand so she could rest her head on my shoulder, answering, "It's really nothing, Nikka. I'm just being silly."

I gave a sound which said I didn't believe that.

"I saw Tamara the other day, she was at the coffee shop when I went to turn in my application," she said finally, in the middle of a sigh.

Not quite sure how to reply to her statement, I opted to gently rub her back, until I knew whether the extremely irrational jealousy that had suddenly arisen in me was warranted.

"I'm not sure if she recognized me. But I walked out before I could give the manager my application. I just knew there'd be no way I could handle it if I worked there, and she came in."

I nodded my understanding. "But she didn't say anything? She didn't bother you?"

She shook her head. "I told you it was silly. It just brought back some old memories."

"… Do you miss her?" I couldn't help but wonder. What if the memories she was thinking of were about how good they'd been together, or how much fun they had? Sure, it ended badly, but that didn't mean that while they were dating their relationship wasn't better than what Kevyn and I were sharing.

Kevyn frowned slightly as she pulled back, surprised green eyes looking at me, hard. "Miss her? Nikka, of course I don't miss her! Seeing her brought back some old bad memories," she clarified, and I must have physically relaxed, because she looked at me strangely for a moment.

"You were worried that I was going to tell you I wanted to get back together with her, weren't you?"

"Something like that," I admitted, shifting a little.

"Baby…" She sounded almost… hurt? Uh-oh. "I love you. The last person you have to worry about coming between us is Tamara. Actually, you don't have to worry about anyone. You're the only one I want in my arms, Annika, and in your arms is the only place I want to be." I felt her gently tug on a strand of my hair before tucking it behind my left ear. "All right?"

I nodded, feeling a little bad that I had doubted her.

Then, my own doubts came back to me, and I led her to the bedroom. "Honey, I… I have something else I have to talk to you about. Can we change clothes, and then talk in bed?" She agreed, emerald gaze a little wary, and we both changed quickly. I wasn't used to feeling so nervous around her; it had been a while since that particular emotion had made itself known.

Effectively changed into her pajamas, which consisted of, that night, one of my T-shirts matched with blue pants with small yellow ducks on them, she sat down beside me on the edge of the bed. Deciding that I was still feeling a little queasy from nerves, I chose to lie down instead, and took her hand in mine before beginning to speak.

"Are you happy, Kevyn? I mean, here, with me?"

She turned to her side, leaning on an elbow. "Nikka, I told you…"

"No, this isn't about Tamara. I've been thinking about this for a while. Honestly. Are you happy, being with me?"

I watched as her mind shifted into the serious-gear that was required for the conversation I'd started. "Yes. You are the best thing in my life."

"Would you want to get married one day?"

Her eyebrow quirked. "Was that a proposal?"

I blushed a little. "No, I just mean, would you want to, if we could?"

Taking pity on my expression, she didn't tease anymore, and replied, "Yes, honey. I can only hope that when we're both ready, the rest of society will be, too, and we'll truly be able to get married."

"Do you want to have kids? Or adopt, maybe?"

"Honey, is there something you want to tell me?" Before I could answer, she continued, "Where is all this coming from, Annika?"

"I know… I know what you said about this being the only place you want to be, but for how long?"

There was that strange look again, the one I couldn't quite decipher. "Sweetheart, I can't predict the future. But I can tell you that I have no plans of going anywhere any time soon; at least, not without you."

"I love you, Kevyn. I want to be able to make you happy for as long as I live."

Her gaze softened to one that would have melted the hardest of hearts in an instant, and she moved to place an oh-so-soft kiss on my lips. "I love you too, Nikka. And I feel the same way, but let's not forget to keep watching the road for whatever comes next, okay?"

I agreed, but pressed the question. "Kids?"

She curled up close. "I would like to have one or two someday, yeah."

"What about adoption?"

"Nikka, baby, shhh," she urged, quietly, stroking my hair. "We've got time yet, we don't have to discuss everything tonight. I promise."

Ten minutes passed. Her ministrations slowed gradually, and I assumed she was falling asleep. I was far from slumber, however, having many more thoughts still coursing through my mind.

"Go to sleep, honey." Kevyn's voice startled me, and she chuckled softly as I jumped. Her lips pressed against my shoulder a few times. "Sleep. Nothing is taking me away from you in the foreseeable future, if I have anything to say about it. Now get some rest. We can talk more another night," she stated.

In lieu of a response, I scooted down and buried my head in her shoulder, her arms going around me tightly as I knew they would. She kissed the top of my head, and held me close until I fell asleep.

… just as I knew she would.

Deciding that she was happy holding me in her arms, and I was safe and warm in her hold, I forced myself to relax. For the time being, nothing was going to drive us apart. And that was enough.

My dream that night was short, and obviously stemmed from my feelings of the previous few days. In my dream, I came home to find Kevyn relaxing on the couch after a hard day of work, greeting her with a quick kiss before going to change into something more comfortable, or I would be cooking dinner when she came home. In both scenes, we were living together, some years into the future. I didn't notice any kids or any rings on the dream-us, but the happiness was clear. We had settled into the domestic life together with ease.

I slept well. It's amazing how reassuring it can be to see yourself taking out the trash of your own house, walking it down the driveway to your own garbage can on the curb, knowing that within that house – your house - sits the one thing that means everything.

And, what's more, that she loves you, too.

The dawning of the next day found us tangled; tangled in the bed sheets, and entangled together. It was a good thing that we woke up at the same time. There was no way either one of us could have extricated ourselves from the pretzel we'd become overnight without waking the other.

Before I was fully back to consciousness, Kevyn kissed my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. The kiss deepened quickly and was followed by several others, and I couldn't have asked for a better twenty minute wake-up routine.

I smiled at her when we pulled back. It was a Sunday. No classes to worry about, and if she wanted to search for a job, I supposed we could, but was looking forward to spending some time together with nothing to worry about. At least for one day. A time where we could just enjoy being together.

"Get dressed, sweetheart. I have plans for today."

My hopes fell. She was going to be busy. Obviously, she wanted me to go with her, and that was fine. I'd do anything as long as it was with her. But, still. That meant there probably wouldn't be any "us" time.

When I didn't get up right away, she tilted her head. "What's that look for?"

"What do you have to do today?"

She blinked, and seemed to understand both what I was asking and why I was looking so dejected. "Honey, I don't have anything to do today, as far as work or school is concerned. I have plans for things that I'd like us to do."

My mood brightened instantly, and I leapt off the bed to hurry through a shower and change clothes. Kevyn was showered and dressed before I was, and waited patiently in the living room. Walking out of the bedroom when I was ready to go, seeing Kevyn there on the sofa sent an image from my dream back into the front of my mind.

The two of us, acting like a couple. Living together. Doing things for each other, sharing the chores and responsibility. Being domestic, and doing it well.

Wishing with all my might for that to come true, I kissed the top of her head to alert her to my presence.

"We're taking BART again today," she said, as we made our way out the door. Patrick bid us a good day and Kevyn explained to him where we were going and how long we'd be gone, so he wouldn't worry. Her new cell number was written on a notepad near the phone.

"We can sit forward, right?"

Her soft laughter flowed over any embarrassment I might have felt. "Of course, baby. We can sit wherever you want. Do you mind a walk, first?"

I grinned. It was a beautiful day. The fog from earlier in the morning had already burned off, leaving a few clouds in the sky and a bright sun, the heat lessened by a breeze from the ocean. "Not at all," I replied. "Walking sounds good."

We strolled through the neighborhood and into the city, finding a small restaurant that Kevyn called a "hole-in-the-wall Mom-and-Pop" type of place. Somehow, I think the meaning was lost on me, but the food was delicious and the environment was cozy. Kevyn ordered an omelet that was as big as her entire plate, while I chose toast, fruit, and potatoes, although I will admit I stole a few bites of Kevyn's omelet. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and asked for another plate, giving me a fond half-grin as we shared the meal.

Forty minutes later, both sufficiently stuffed, we continued our walk into the city, definitely needing to work off some of that food. The redhead beside me had insisted on paying for our breakfast, perhaps it was more of a brunch, and this time, I didn't put up much of a fight. I remembered that whatever we were doing that day was Kevyn's idea. If the occasion arose where I needed to help pay for something, I could – Patrick had slipped a few dollars into my hand just before we left, mentioning it was an advance – but knew that if our positions were reversed, I wouldn't want Kevyn to pay for anything.

We took a trolley to make our trek a little easier, and ended up back at Union Square. Had we not just eaten breakfast, I would have guessed we would be going to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch.

Leading the way, Kevyn brought us into a large store which boasted the Disney symbol everywhere.

Slightly confused as to what she wanted us to do there, I asked, "Kevyn?"

She smiled, and gently urged me forward. "Look around, baby. This is the Disney store. I figured if your mother and brother are going to be visiting, and Stacey can't make it, at least we can send something back to her. You said she likes stuffed animals, right? Let's pick something out."

I didn't care at all whether it was appropriate or not, or whether I would make a scene. I picked her up in my arms and hugged her to me, even spinning her around once before setting her gently on the ground again.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Now, let's have a look around."

We decided that a medium-sized stuffed Dumbo would be a good gift. Or, rather, I decided, and Kevyn agreed. Stacey was especially fond of elephant stuffed animals, I knew. Taking note of the stuffed animals that Kevyn seemed interested in, I made up my mind to come back another day and make a purchase myself.

"Now what?" I asked, enjoying Kevyn's plans already.

"We walk," she chuckled.

We made our way down a few more blocks, passing several people, many of them greeting us with a small smile. I thought about what Kevyn had told me once, that people in San Francisco didn't seem that nice. Maybe that was true where she went to school, or in other parts of the city. So far, with all the places we'd been, I didn't notice anything.

Switching the large Disney bag to my left hand, I reached for Kevyn's hand, threading my fingers through hers.

She was quick to pull her hand away, not even breaking stride, and I blinked.

"We can't do that here, baby. I'm sorry. Downtown still isn't safe. Castro is usually all right, but we just have to be careful," she explained, and I kicked myself. Just because we were in San Francisco didn't mean it was any better than Montana, and I had to remind myself of that.

"But it didn't seem like anyone…"

"I know, but they're there, Nikka. Even if we weren't walking together, there'd still be plenty of people who would assume just because of my haircut."

My eyes widened. "What's wrong with your haircut?"

She smiled gently. "Nothing. I happen to like it. But a lot of people will associate short hair on a girl as meaning that girl is a lesbian."

I thought about that for a moment. "But not every girl who has short hair is a lesbian, and I don't have short hair…"

"It's all about stereotypes, honey. And even if we were just friends, there's a good chance they'd see you as a lesbian anyway, because you're walking with me."

"But then, if they already assume, why can't we hold hands?"

We turned the corner onto another street before she answered. "It's just easier and sometimes safer to let them wonder than to put it right out there in their faces," she sighed. "Nikka, you remember how much of a pain Buck and Henry were?" I nodded. "They're nothing. There are people, here and in the rest of the world, that will forget about bare hands and reach for their weapons if they feel like it, because of us.

"Those are called hate-crimes, like Matthew Shepard, when someone is hurt or killed just because they live a different lifestyle."

She told me the story of Matthew Shepard as we continued on our way, although we arrived at our destination long before our conversation was finished, and found a bench so we could sit and finish the topic. I finally realized what she'd meant – she told me that just because San Francisco was seen as the "Gay and Lesbian Capital" of the world, that didn't mean everyone was happy about it.

"Pride parades are awesome, and I go every year, at least to watch. But there are always a few protestors standing across the street." She stood, indicating that we should continue on our way. "They're usually peaceful. But you just never know. I'm sorry it has to be like this, Nikka, I wish we didn't have to hide."

I shook my head. "I understand. Until we don't have to hide anymore, I'll remember." I tried to lighten the mood a little, and offered to carry the bag, bumping her shoulder with mine. "Where are we going now?"

"Right in here."

"What's 'here'?"

"The MOMA," was all she said, as if that should have meant everything. After about twenty seconds to adjust to what I was seeing, I still didn't know exactly what it was, but it was incredible. The outside of the building itself was intimidating enough to make me stop in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk. A huge building with hundreds of windows and a large cylinder coming from the roof that looked to be made of glass in the center. From where we were standing, what I realized later was actually a skyscraper positioned behind it looked to be connected, like some sort of medieval tower.

A few thoughts I'd had about buildings not having the ability to be beautiful flew from my mind. It was amazing. If you've never been to the Museum of Modern Art, I highly recommend it. It's busy on the weekend, but worth the wait in line. Even the view from outside is worth it.

I ran my hand along the building, feeling the texture, and paused.

"Wood?"

Kevyn chuckled. "Yes, it's wood."

"But, it looks like bricks."

"Bricks don't work well in California," she said, adding, "They're not very earthquake-sound."

"Oh." Earthquakes? Now there was a part of California I wasn't looking forward to experiencing.

We walked inside, and I found myself dumbfounded, again. The architectural wonders of this place were never-ending!

"Hey, Nikka," Kevyn whispered, and I tore my eyes away from the large columns and interesting designs behind the front desk, glancing at her.

"Look up."

Tilting my head back, I gasped. There was a metal walkway up there! It must have been made of glass, because I could see right through it to the glass above, only the metal support beams getting in the way. It was like a bridge you could see through. I had to try it

So that was the first thing we did. Kevyn was explaining to me that the stairs, which were on our left from the desk, would let us step onto any floor we wanted. She had a brochure with all the current exhibits, but I was only half paying attention. All I knew was that I wanted to walk across that bridge.

It was quite possibly the scariest feeling I'd had so far. It almost beat out flying through the sky in a pressurized metal tube. Almost.

It wasn't glass, as I'd first thought, but appeared to be a strong metal grate. Pieces of thick steel with small squares of space accounted for the illusion from the main floor. Walking several stories above the ground, and seeing that ground below you is a rather nerve-wracking experience. But it was like I couldn't get enough. I crossed it three more times before extracting a promise from Kevyn that we could walk over it at least one more time, and continuing on to see the rest of the museum. You know, the museum part. With art and stuff.

We spent three hours walking around, just looking at the different exhibitions and all the paintings and sculptures. The second floor was my favorite, I think, since that held the photography and works that were done on paper. I went from being greatly interested in architecture to knowing without a doubt that I wanted to try photography. Or maybe it was oil painting I liked best.

I couldn't decide. Everything was incredible. We tagged along with a tour that one of the museum staff was giving, and learned some specifics about a few of the works, before we trailed off on our own again.

Kevyn read me the titles of all the ones that stopped me in my tracks, and laughed at my expression the entire time.

"Wow," I breathed, and Kevyn agreed.

"Ansel Adams."

I came to the conclusion that I liked his black-and-white photography very much. Don't get me wrong, the works he's done in color are also wonderful. There was just something about seeing the contrast of black and white…

It was beautiful. One in particular caught my attention, and I spent at least five minutes sitting on a bench, staring at one which Kevyn said was titled "Mount McKinley, Lake Wonder".

"Look at how the light falls on the mountain," I said, "and the perfect stillness of the lake. That's awesome."

Kevyn smiled, and gently rubbed my shoulder. "You like that one, hm?" I nodded. "Then, come on, we'll get it."

My jaw dropped. "We are not buying one of these!" I hissed, getting to my feet, mindful to keep my voice low so as not to disturb the other visitors around us. "They've got to be insanely expensive."

"No, Nikka," she laughed, "they have a store in the museum. We can get a reproduction in a poster."

I blushed a little at my exclamation. "Oh. Okay."

It took another forty-five minutes to get me out of the store, near the main entry. Everything seemed to be calling to me, but finally, Kevyn tugged me by the arm and led me outside. I put the rolled poster into the large Disney bag and looked around, breathing the air that seemed to be even crisper than earlier in the day.

"I want to show you something else."

Following Kevyn across the street, I was once again overwhelmed with the beauty of man-made structures. We were in the Yerba Buena Garden, Kevyn said, which was a huge expanse of gardens and had a waterfall in memory of Martin Luther King, Jr. There was artwork all over San Francisco, I decided – even the Garden had pieces of art scattered around, like the Ship Sculpture.

Between the metal framework were glass panes, and I could see vegetation within the sculpture. "Hey, there are plants growing in here!"

Kevyn just chuckled. She already knew that, of course. But I felt the need to point everything out to her, nonetheless. Such as the large arrow on a nearby building that pointed up and declared "Sky" in big white letters. I thought that was quite amusing.

"Wow," was the only word I had an hour later, after we'd explored some of the gardens. We sat on one of the numerous benches, side-by-side, just absorbing the atmosphere. I was extremely excited by all that I'd seen, and by the whole day in general. I could feel that Kevyn was happy and relaxed in return, and kissed the top of her head quickly.

She smiled, green eyes brighter than I'd seen in a long time, and I decided the day together had been just as beneficial for her.

"Ready for one more view? Then we can go home and have dinner," came the offer, and I readily agreed.

"Sure."

We walked a few blocks to a MUNI station, waited a few minutes for the next #28 bus, and then stepped off again about ten minutes after that.

I couldn't speak. With the exception of the woman by my side, it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.

The Golden Gate Bridge. The bus had dropped us off at the south side of the bridge, and all I could do was stare. Seemed I was doing that a lot.

"We'll just walk a little ways and then turn back, okay? I just thought we could watch the sunset." Her voice was soft, and I could tell she was a little unsure as to whether or not my silence was a good sign. "Then I'll cook some dinner."

I smiled, and started walking, Kevyn falling into step beside me. "This… I don't even know. This is outstanding."

Kevyn smiled. "I'm glad you think so."

I was glad for Kevyn's hand in the small of my back, as I often looked up to see the cables above us, and relied on her to guide me in the right direction. We continued for about fifteen minutes, following the path, and then stopped to look over at the ocean. With all the cars driving by, I couldn't hear the tide hitting the shore, but I could see the waves and the sun as the last of its rays reflected off the water. Knowing that the drivers probably couldn't care less about two girls on the side of the bridge, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, sharing in the setting of the sun as I let my mind wander.

My mother and brother would be coming to visit in a few weeks. I couldn't wait to see them, and I missed them both like crazy. At the same time, I wouldn't go back if they asked me to. Not for good, anyway. Everything that I needed and wanted was right within arms reach.

That's not to say that life in San Francisco was perfect. But it was getting better. Kevyn and her father were able to enjoy each other's company again, and Kevyn and I were learning more about each other every day. Patrick was going to help me get a job, and maybe Kevyn was right, I could actually go somewhere with my art.

There, standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, watching the ocean, I realized that I was very lucky.

"You know," I said, jumping as a car horn sounded, "I miss the peace and quiet of the country sometimes." Kevyn raised an eyebrow and I chuckled softly. "But I could get used to the city."

With all its beauty, I didn't think it would be long before I came to love it, crazy drivers and all.

But for now, Kevyn was beside me. I began walking back towards the south end of the bridge, to the station that would start us on our travel back home. More of a home than I'd felt in a long time. "Home", where Kevyn would cook dinner, and we would sleep soundly in each other's arms, keeping the rest of the world at bay until morning.

And that was enough.