Lisa and I didn't speak after that. But every afternoon after work she was there, waiting across the street. She'd be watching me from beneath the brim of her baseball cap. All ready to stalk me home safely. It pissed me off, but in no way did I feel threatened. I'd ignored her for three days as she trailed me. Today was day number four. She'd traded her usual black jeans for blue, boots for sneakers. Even from a distance, her upper lip and nose looked bruised. The paparazzi were still missing in action, though today someone had asked me if she was in town. Her days of moving around Portland unknown were probably coming to an end. I wondered if she knew.

When I didn't just ignore her as per my usual modus operandi, she took a step forward. Then stopped. A truck passed between us among a steady stream of city traffic. This was crazy. Why was she still here? Why hadn't she just gone back to Jisoo? Moving on was impossible with her here.

Decision half made, I rushed across during the next break in traffic, meeting her on the opposite sidewalk.

"Hi," I said, not fussing with strap on my bag at all. "What are you doing here, Lisa?"

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, looked around. "I'm walking you home. Same as I do every day."

"This is your life now?"

"Guess so."

"Huh," I said, summing up the situation perfectly. "Why don't you go back to LA?"

Blue eyes watched me warily and she didn't answer at first. "My wife lives in Portland."

My heart stuttered. The simplicity of the statement and the sincerity in her eyes caught me off guard. I wasn't nearly as immune to her as I should have been. "We can't keep doing this."

She studied the street, not me, her shoulders hunched over. "Will you walk with me, Jen?"

I nodded. We walked. Neither of us rushed, instead strolling past shopfronts and restaurants, peering into bars just getting going for the evening. I had a bad feeling that once we stopped walking we'd have to start talking, so dawdling suited me fine. Summer nights meant there were a fair number of people around.

An Irish bar sat on a street corner about halfway home. Music blared out, some old song by The White Stripes. Hands still stuffed into her pockets, Lisa gestured toward the bar with an elbow. "Wanna get a drink?"

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Sure."

She led me straight to a table at the back, away from the growing crowd of post-work drinkers. She ordered two pints of Guinness. Once they arrived, we sat in silence, sipping. After a moment, Lisa took off her cap and set it on the table. Shit, her poor face. I could see it more clearly now and she looked like she had two black eyes.

We sat there staring at one another in some bizarre sort of standoff. Neither of us spoke. The way she looked at me, like she'd been hurt too, like she was hurting … I couldn't take it. Waiting to drag this whole sorry mess of a relationship out into the light wasn't helping either of us. Time for a new plan. We'd clear the air then get on with our respective lives. No more hurt and heartache. "You wanted to tell me about her?" I prompted, sitting up straighter, preparing myself for the worst.

"Yeah. Jisoo and I were together a long time. You probably already know, she was the one who cheated on me. The one we talked about."

I nodded.

"We started the band when I was fourteen, Jack and Jimmy and me. Ben joined a year later and she'd hang around too. They were like family," she said, brow puckered. "They are family. Even when things went bad I couldn't just turn my back on her …"

"You kissed her."

She sighed. "No, she kissed me. Jisoo and I are finished."

"I'm guessing she doesn't know that, since she's still calling you and all."

"She's moved to New York, no longer working for the band. I don't know what the phone call was about, but I didn't return it."

I nodded, only slightly appeased. Our problems weren't that clear-cut. "Does your heart understand you're finished with her? I guess I mean your head, don't I? The heart's just another muscle, really. Silly to say it decides anything."

"Jisoo and I are finished. We have been for a long time. I promise."

"Even if that's true, doesn't that just make me the consolation prize? Your attempt at a normal life?"

"Jen, no. That's not the way it is."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, disbelief thick in my voice. I picked up my beer, gulping down the bitter, dark ale and creamy foam. Something to calm the nerves. "I was getting over you," I said, my voice a pitiful, small thing. My shoulders were right back where they belonged, way down. "A month. I didn't really give up on you until day seven, though. Then I knew you weren't coming. I knew it was over then. Because if I'd been so important to you, you'd have said something by then, right? I mean, you knew I was in love with you. So you'd have put me out of my misery by then, wouldn't you?"

She said nothing.

"You're all secrets and lies, Lisa. I asked you about the earring, remember?"

She nodded.

"You lied."

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Did you do that before or after our honesty rule? I can't remember. It was definitely after the cheating rule though, right?" Talking was a mistake. All of the jagged thoughts and emotions she inspired caught up with me too fast.

She didn't deign to reply.

"What's the story behind the earrings, anyway?"

"I brought them with my first pay check after the record company signed us."

"Wow. And you both wore them all this time. Even after she cheated on you and everything."

"It was Jimmy," she said. "She cheated on me with Jimmy."

Holy shit, her own brother. So many things fell into place with that piece of information. "That's why you got so upset about finding him and that groupie together. And when you saw Jimmy talking to me at that party."

"Yeah. It was all a long time ago, but … Jimmy flew back for an appearance on a TV show. We were in the middle of a big tour, playing Spain at the time. The second album had just hit the top ten. We were finally really pulling in the crowds."

"So you forgave them to keep the band together?"

"No. Not exactly. I just got on with things. Even back then Jimmy was drinking too much. He'd changed." She licked her lips, studied the table. "I'm sorry about that night. More fucking sorry than I can say. What you walked in on … I know how it must have looked. And I hated myself for lying to you about the earring, for still wearing it in Monterey."

She flicked at her ear in annoyance. There was still a visible wound there with shiny, pink, nearly healed skin around it. It didn't look like a fading earring hole at all.

"What did you do there?" I asked.

"Cut across it with a knife." She shrugged. "An earring hole takes years to grow over. Made a new cut when you left so it could heal properly."

"Oh."

"I waited to come talk to you because I needed some time. You walking out on me after you'd promised you wouldn't … that was hard to take."

"I didn't have any choice."

She leaned toward me, her eyes hard. "You had a choice."

"I'd just seen my wife kissing another woman. And then you refused to even discuss it with me. You just started yelling at me about leaving. Again." My hands gripped the edge of the table so tight I could feel my fingernails pressing into the wood. "What the fuck should I have done, Lisa? Tell me. Because I've played that scene over in my head so many times and it always works out the same way, with you slamming the door shut behind me."

"Shit." She slumped back in her seat. "You knew you leaving was a problem for me. You should have stuck with me, given me a chance to calm down. We worked it out in Monterey after that bar fight. We could have done it again."

"Rough sex doesn't fix everything. Sometimes you actually have to talk."

"I tried to talk to you the other night at that club. Wasn't what was on your mind."

I could feel my face heat up. It just pissed me off even more.

"Fuck. Look," she said, rubbing at the back of her neck. "The thing is, I needed to get us straight in my head, okay? I needed to figure out if us being together was the right thing. Honestly, Jennie, I didn't want to hurt you again."

A month she'd left me to stew in my misery. It was on the tip of my tongue to give her a flippant thank-you. Or even to flip her off. But this was too serious.

"You got us straight in your head? That's great. I wish I could get us straight in my head." I stopped babbling long enough to drink more beer. My throat was giving sandpaper serious competition.

She held herself perfectly still, watching me crash and burn with an eerie calm.

"So, I'm kind of beat." I looked everywhere but at her. "Does that cover everything you wanted to talk about?"

"No."

"No? There's more?" Please, God, don't let there be more.

"Yeah."

"Have at it." Time to drink.

"I love you."

I spat beer across the table, all over our combined hands. "Shit."

"I'll get some napkins," she said, releasing my hand and rising out of her chair. A moment later she was back. I sat there like a useless doll while she cleaned my arm and then the table, trembling was all I was good for. Carefully, she pulled back my seat, helped me to my feet and ushered me out of the bar. The hum of traffic and rush of city air cleared my senses. I had room to think out on the street.

Immediately my feet got moving. They knew what was up. My boots stomped across the pavement, putting serious distance between me and there. Getting the hell away from her and what she'd said. Lisa stayed right on my heels, however.

We stopped at a street corner and I punched the button, waiting for the walk light. "Don't say that again."

"Is it such a surprise, really? Why the fuck else would I be doing this, huh? Of course I love you."

"Don't." I turned on her, face furious.

Her lips formed a tight line. "Alright. I won't say that again. For now. But we should talk some more."

I growled, gnashed my teeth.

"Jennie."

Crap. Negotiation wasn't my strong suit. Not with her. I wanted her gone. Or at least, I was pretty certain I wanted her gone. Gone so I could resume my mourning for her and us and everything we might have been. Gone so I didn't have to think about the fact that she now thought she loved me. What utter emotional bullshit. My tear ducts went crazy right on cue. I took huge, deep breaths trying to get myself back under control.

"Later, not today," she said, in an affable, reasonable voice. I didn't trust it or her at all.

"Fine."

I strode another block with her hanging at my side until again a crossing stopped us cold, leaving room for conversation. She had better not speak. At least not until I got my shit together and figured all this out. I straightened my pencil skirt, tucked back my hair, fidgeted. The light took forever. Since when did Portland turn against me? This wasn't fair.

"We're not finished," she said. It sounded like both a threat and a promise.

The first text arrived at midnight while I was lying on my bed, reading. Or trying to read. Because trying to sleep had been a bust. School started back soon but I was finding it hard to raise my usual enthusiasm for my studies. I had the worst feeling that the seed of doubt Lisa had planted regarding my career choices had taken root inside my brain. I liked architecture, but I didn't love it. Did that matter? Sadly, I had no answers. Lots of excuses—some bullshit and some valid—but no answers.

Lisa would probably say I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to. I knew all too well what my father would say. It wouldn't be pretty.

I'd been avoiding seeing my parents since I got back. Easy enough to do considering I'd hung up on the lecture my father had attempted to give me the second day after my return. Relations had been frosty since then. The real surprise was that I wasn't surprised. They had never encouraged anything that didn't directly support the plan. There was a reason I'd never returned their calls when I was in Monterey. Because I couldn't tell them the things they wanted to hear anymore, it had seemed safer to stay mute.

Chan had been running interference with the folks, which I appreciated, but my time was up. We'd all been summoned to dinner tomorrow night. I figured the text was my mother ensuring I wasn't going to try and wheedle out of it. Sometimes she sat up late watching old black and white movies when her sleeping pills didn't kick in.

I was wrong.

Lisa: She surprised me when she kissed me. That's why I didn't stop her right away. But I didn't want it.

I stared at my cell, frowning.

Lisa: You there?

Me: Yeah.

Lisa: I need to know if you believe me about Jisoo.

Did I? I took a breath, searched deep. There was frustration, plenty of confusion, but my anger had apparently burned itself out at long last. Because I didn't doubt ahe'd told me the truth.

Me: I believe you.

Lisa: Thank you. I keep thinking of more. Will you listen?

Me: Yes.

Lisa: My folks got married because of Jimmy. Mom left when I was 12. She drank.

Lisa: Jimmy's been paying her to keep quiet. She's been hustling him for years.

Me: Holy hell!

Lisa: Yeah. I got lawyers onto it now.

Me: Glad to hear it.

Lisa: We retired Dad to Florida. I told him about you. He wants to meet.

Me: Really? I don't know what to say …

Lisa: Can I come up?

Me: You're here??

I didn't wait for a reply. Forget my pajama shorts and daggy old T-shirt, washed so many times its original color was a faded memory. She'd just have to take me as she found me. I unlocked the front door of our apartment and padded down the stairs on bare feet, my cell still in my hand. Sure enough, a tall shadow loomed through the frosted glass of the building's front door. I pushed it open to find her sitting on the step. Outside, the night was still, peaceful. A fancy silver SUV was pulled up at the curb.

"Hey," she said, a finger busy on the screen of her cell. Mine beeped again.

Lisa: Wanted to say goodnight.

"Okay," I said, looking up from the screen. "Come in."

The side of her mouth lifted and she looked up at me. I met her gaze, refusing to feel self-conscious. She didn't seem put off by my slacker bedtime style. If anything, her smile increased, her eyes warming. "You about to go to bed?"

"I was just reading. Couldn't sleep."

"Is your brother here?" She stood and followed me back up the stairs, her boots tapping loudly on the old wooden floors. I half expected Mrs Lucia from downstairs to come out and yell. It was a hobby of hers.

"No," I said, closing the door behind us. "He and Rosé went out."

Lisa looked around the apartment with interest. As usual she took up all the space. I don't know how she did that. It was like a magician's trick. She was somehow so much bigger than she actually seemed. And the woman didn't seem small to begin with. In no rush at all, her gaze wandered around the room, taking in bright turquoise walls (Rosé's doing) and the shelves of neatly stacked books (my doing).

"Is this yours?" she asked, poking her head into my bedroom.

"Ah, yes. It's a bit of a mess right now, though." I squeezed past her and started speed-cleaning, picking up the books and other assorted debris scattered across the floor. I should have asked her to give me five minutes before coming up. My mother would be horrified. Since returning from LA I'd let my world descend into chaos. It suited my frazzled state of mind. Didn't mean Lisa needed to see it. I needed to make a plan to clean up my act and actually stick to it this time.

"I used to be organized," I said, flailing, my fallback position for everything lately.

"It doesn't matter."

"This won't take a minute."

"Jennie," she said, catching hold of my wrist in much the same manner that her gaze caught me. "I don't care. I just need to talk to you."

A sudden horrible thought entered my mind.

"Are you leaving?" I asked, today's dirty work shirt clutched in my suddenly shaking hand.

Her grip tightened around my wrist. "You want me to leave?"

"No. I mean, are you leaving Portland? Is that why you're here, to say goodbye?"

"No."

"Oh." The pincer grip my ribs had gotten on my heart and lungs eased back a little. "Okay."

"Where did that come from?" When I didn't answer she tugged me gently toward her. "Hey."

I took a reluctant step in her direction, dropping the dirty laundry. She pressed for more, sitting on my bed and pulling me down alongside her. I sort of stumbled my butt onto the double mattress as opposed to doing it with any grace. Story of my life. Object achieved, she gave up her grip on me. My hands clenched the edge of the bed.

"So, you got a weird look on your face and then you asked me if I was leaving," she said, blue eyes concerned. "Care to explain?"

"You haven't turned up at midnight before. I guess I wondered if there was more to it than just dropping by."

"I drove by your apartment and I saw your light was on. Figured I'd send you a text, see what mood you were in after our talk today." She rubbed at her chin with the palm of her hand. "Plus, like I said, I keep thinking of stuff I need to tell you."

"You drive by my apartment often?"

She gave me a wry smile. "Only a couple of times. It's my way of saying goodnight to you."

"How did you know which window was mine?"

"Ah, well, that time I talked to Rosé when I was first came to town? She had the light on in the other room. Figured this one must be yours." She didn't look at me, choosing instead to check out the photos of me and my friends on the walls. "You mad that I've been around?"

"No," I answered honestly. "I think I might be running out of mad."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

She let out a slow breath and stared back at me, saying nothing. Dark bruises lingered beneath her eyes, though her swollen nose had gone back to normal size.

"I really am sorry Chan hit you."

"If I was your brother, I'd have done the exact same fucking thing." She braced her elbows on her knees, but kept her face turned toward me.

"Would you?"

"Without question."

The silence dragged out. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly. At least we weren't fighting or rehashing our break-up one more time. Being broken and angry got old.

"Can we just hang out?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Lemme see this." She picked up my iPhone and started flicking through the music files. "Where are the ear buds?"

I hopped up and retrieved them from among the crap on my desk. Lisa plugged them in then, handed me an ear bud. I sat at her side, curious what she'd choose out of my music. When the rocking, jumpy beat of 'Jackson' by Johnny Cash and June Carter started I looked at her in amusement. She smirked and mouthed the lyrics. We had indeed gotten married in a fever.

"You making fun of me?" I asked.

Light danced in her eyes. "I'm making fun of us."

"Fair enough."

"What else have you got here?"

Cash and Carter finished and she continued her search for songs. I watched her face, waiting for a reaction to my musical tastes. All I got was a smothered yawn.

"They're not that bad," I protested.

"Sorry. Big day."

"Lisa, if you're tired, we don't have to—"

"No. I'm fine. But do you mind if I lie down?"

Lisa on my bed. Well, she was already on my bed but … "Sure."

She gave me a cagey look but started tugging off her sneakers. "You just being polite?"

"No, it's fine. And, I mean, legally the bed is still half yours," I joked, pulling out the ear bud before her movements did it for me. "So, what did you do today?"

"Been working on the new album and sorting out some stuff." Hands behind her head, she stretched out across my bed. "You lying down too? We can't share the music if you don't."

I crawled on and lay down next to her, wriggling around a bit, making myself comfortable. It was, after all, my bed. The slight scent of her soap came to me, clean and warm and Lisa. All too well, I remembered. For once, hurt didn't seem to come attached to the memory. I poked around inside my head, double-checking. When I'd said I was out of mad, it had apparently been nothing more than the truth. We had our issues, but her cheating on me wasn't one of them. I knew that now and it meant a lot.

"Here." She handed me back the ear bud and started playing with my cell again.

"How's Jimmy?" I rolled onto my side, needing to see her. The strong line of her nose and jaw was in profile, the curve of her lips. How many times had I kissed her? Not nearly enough to last me if it never happened again.

"He's doing a lot better. Seems to have really gotten himself right. I think he's going to be okay."

"That's great news."

"At least he comes by his problems honestly," she said, her tone turning bitter. "Our mother is a fucking disaster from what I hear. But then, she always was. She used to take us to the park because she needed to score. She'd turn up to school plays and parent–teacher nights high as a kite."

I kept my mouth shut, letting her get it out. The best thing I could do for her was to be there and listen. The pain and anger in her voice was heartbreaking. My parents had their overbearing issues, certainly, but nothing like this. Lisa's childhood had been terrible. If I could have bitch-slapped her mother right then for putting that pain in Lisa's voice, I would have. Twice over.

"Dad ignored her using for years. He could. He was a long-haul truck driver, away most of the time. Jimmy and me were the ones that had to put up with her shit. The number of times we'd come home to find her babbling all sorts of stuff or passed out on the couch. There'd be no food in the house 'cause she'd spent the grocery money on pills. Then one day we came home from school and she and the TV were gone. That was it." She stared up at nothing, her face drawn. "She didn't even leave a note. Now she's back and she's been hurting Jimmy. It drives me nuts."

"That must have been hard for you," I said. "Hearing about her from Jimmy."

One of her shoulders did a little lift. "He shouldn't have had to deal with her on his own. Said he wanted to protect me. Seems my big brother isn't a completely selfish prick."

"Thank you for texting me."

"S'okay. What do you feel like listening to?" The sudden change in topic told me she didn't want to talk about her family anymore. She yawned again, her jaw cracking. "Sorry."

"The Saint Johns."

She nodded, flicking through to find the only song I had of theirs. The strum of the guitar started softly, filling my head. She put the cell on her chest and her eyelids drifted down. A man and a woman took turns singing about their head and their heart. Throughout it, her face remained calm, relaxed. I started to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. But when the song finished she turned to look at me.

"Nice. A bit sad," she said.

"You don't think they'll be together in the end?"

She, too, rolled onto her side. There was no more than a hand's width between us. With a curious look, she handed me the cell. "Play me another song you like."

I scrolled through the screens, trying to decide what to play for her. "I forgot to tell you, someone was in saying they'd seen you today. Your anonymity might be about to run out."

She sighed. "Bound to happen sooner or later. They'll just have to get used to me being around."

"You're really not leaving?" I tried to keep my voice light but it didn't work.

"No. I'm really not." She looked at me and I just knew she saw everything. All of my fears and dreams and the hopes I did my best to keep hidden, even from myself. But I couldn't hide from her if I tried. "Okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"You asked me if you were my attempt at normal. I need you to understand, that's not it at all. Being with you, the way I feel about you, it does ground me. But that's because it makes me question fucking everything. It makes me want to make things better. Makes me want to be better. I can't hide from shit or make excuses when it comes to you because that won't work. Neither of us is happy when things are that way and I want you to be happy …" Her forehead furrowed and her dark brows drew tight. "Do you understand?"

"I think so," I whispered, feeling so much for her right then I didn't know which way was up.

She yawned again, her jaw cracking. "Sorry. Fuck, I'm beat. You mind if I close my eyes for five minutes?"

"No."

She did so. "Play me another song?"

"On it."

I played her "Revelator" by Gillian Welch, the longest, most soothing song I could find. I'd guess she fell asleep about halfway through. Her features relaxed and her breathing deepened. Carefully, I pulled out the earbuds and put the cell away. I switched on the bedside lamp and turned off the main one, shut the door so Rosé and Chan's eventual return didn't wake her. Then I lay back down and just stared at her. I don't know for how long. The compulsion to stroke her face or trace her tattoos made my fingers itch, but I didn't want to wake her. She obviously needed the sleep.

When I woke up in the morning she was gone. Disappointment was a bitter taste. I'd just had the best night's sleep I'd had in weeks, devoid of the usual tense and angsty dreams I seemed to specialize in of late. When had she left? I rolled onto my back and something crinkled, complaining loudly. With a hand, I fished out a piece of paper. It had obviously been torn from one of my notepads. The message was brief but beautiful.

I'm still not leaving Portland.