You thought it was over, but now it's back! Yes, people, after 9 months, this story is back up and running with a new chapter! As I mentioned on my profile page, I'm kind of unpredictable, so I'm not making any promises here, but I will never deprive my fans of an update for so long ever again. I will produce at least one chapter a month. You have my word.

Oh, and top honours to whoever can name the band who wrote the song lyrics I quote in here (and the name of the song, of course). :)

"Six o'clock in the morning/You're the last to hear the warning/You've been trying to throw your arms around the world."

Carmen opened her eyes and saw a quickly moving blur. Her head spun and throbbed, dipping between reality and fantasy. There was music coming from somewhere. A heavy, itchy throw blanket had been tossed across her and she threw it off. She probably had a hangover. But she didn't drink alcohol, did she? No, and she most definitely hadn't last night. Was it possible to be drunk from shock?

"You've been falling off the sidewalk/Your lips move but you can't talk/You've been trying to throw your arms around the world."

She slowly faded into consciousness. The moving blur on the roof was a ceiling fan that had been set to "Hurricane." Carmen whacked the switch on the wall and the ceiling fan ceased twirling. She heard a loud clicking noise and saw the ring on her finger. For the first time, she examined it carefully. It featured a diamond set in silvery white, perhaps platinum, and surrounded by pearls. It was just gorgeous.

"A woman needs a man/Like a fish needs a bicycle/When you're trying to throw your arms around the world."

She saw David step out of the kitchen, adjusting his tie. "Hello, Carmen."

"Um, hi," she greeted him. "Where is that music coming from?"

"My alarm clock went off. Sorry if I woke you…?"

"Oh, no worries. I just- it, um- never mind. What's the song?" Carmen asked. What she really wanted to say was "What the heck? A man needs a woman like a fish needs a bicycle? "

"Oh, um, never mind," David waved his hand dismissively. He looked a bit embarrassed. "Old people music."

"Oh. Okay." Carmen gathered the itchy throw in her arms. "Where should I put this?"

"In the linen closet. Just in here." David thumbed toward a small folding door.

"Thanks."

"See you later."

David picked up a smart leather briefcase and walked out the apartment door. The song changed a few moments later- some moody number with a lot of "oo-oo" and "baby, baby, baby."

"Mom?" she hollered.

"Nena! You're up!" Carmen's mom emerged from the bathroom wearing a bathrobe, hair soaking wet. "I was just waiting for you to get up so I could make breakfast. How did your date with Win go last night?" The corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes sparkled.

"Oh, mom," Carmen whispered and held up her right hand.

"I heard! Oh, Carmen!" Her mom threw her arms around Carmen and hugged her tight. "You grew up just like that." She gave a half-hearted snap of her fingers and Carmen saw the tears welling up in her mother's eyes. Ryan started to wail from his crib.

"Mom, I love you. Why don't you make breakfast? I'll take care of Ryan."

"Thank you, sweetie. His changing table is in the bathroom."

Carmen slid into the baby's nursery, where Ryan was shrieking in his white crib. She pulled him out and snuggled him close. He continued bawling as she carried him into the bathroom, one hand pinched over her nose. As she laid him on the table, her ring glinted off the mirror.

"I should probably take this off, should I?" she mumbled and laughed to herself. She slid it off and put it on the corner of the counter near the sink. Then she rolled up her pajama sleeves and started to change the diaper.

About five minutes later, Carmen scooped up the now laughing Ryan and sat him down firmly on the counter before washing her hands. After she dried herself off she reached for the ring. It wasn't on the corner where she'd left it. She did a double take and combed the counter with her eyes. It wasn't there. She lifted Ryan up and looked where he had been sitting. Nothing. Biting her lip, she glanced into the open toilet. It wasn't there either, thank heavens.

Now she was really nervous. She checked her hands to make sure she hadn't absentmindedly stuck it on one of her fingers. Not there. She knelt down on her hands and knees and crawled around the bathroom. Suddenly she heard Ryan wailing and jumped up, bashing her head on the towel rack. She let out a short, sharp, swear word and kicked the wall. Then she picked up Ryan and carried him into the kitchen, bouncing him up and down so he would stop crying.

"Who's a fussy baby?" she said, walking around the living room in dizzy circles while Ryan screamed in her arms. Her head still throbbed from hitting the rack. Maybe she was going loopy.

"Carmen, honey! Your breakfast is ready!" Carmen's mom appeared at the front of the room. "I'll take care of him for you, sweetie." Carmen eagerly handed Ryan over and walked into the kitchen to eat her pancakes and get some peace. Just as she entered the kitchen, she heard the phone ring and picked it up.

"Oh, hey Carmen. It's Win."

"Win!" Carmen feigned enthusiasm. "I'm so… so glad you, um, called!"

"Something wrong?" Carmen could sense the worry and anxiety in his voice. Did he think she had cold feet this soon into the engagement?

"No! No, nothing's wrong. Definitely not that, nope."

"Oh, that's good."

"So, um, why'd you call?" Carmen carried the phone with her to the table.

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see how you were."

"Okay. Well, I'm fine. Thanks for calling. It was so sweet of you."

"No problem. Well, catch you later, I guess."

Carmen clicked the "Hang Up" button on the phone and laid it down in a pile of gooey maple syrup. Great. How could this day get any worse?

Tibberon: Hey Lena.

lkaligaris101: yeah?

Tibberon: why'd you change your ID?

lkaligaris101: privacy issues

Tibberon?

lkaligaris101: tibs, don't tell ANYONE.

Tibberon: lips r sealed

lkaligaris101: promise? this is serious.

Tibberon: cross my heart and hope to die

lkaligaris101: I think I have a stalker.

Tibberon: WHAT?

lkaligaris101: yeah

Tibberon: tell, tell!

lkaligaris101: OK, so first day of college. I arrive at my first class. cute boy sitting in middle row. he smiles and sorta waves so i sit away from him.

lkaligaris101: then after class he's all "wanna hang out at lunch?" and I'm like "get a life".

Tibberon: what did he look like?

lkaligaris101: really bright blue eyes and red hair, like, exploding from his head, the kind of hair you can't fix unless you shave it all off

Tibberon: thin? fat? tall? short?

lkaligaris101: sorta thin, but same height as me.

Tibberon: I c. go on.

lkaligaris101: same story every day after. then I don't know how, but he got my email and started sending me all these weird love notes and all this spam.

Tibberon: yikes.

lkaligaris101: so that's why I changed my ID. new email, new MSN, everything. thank goodness he didn't get my cell number.

Tibberon: wow, that IS scary. stupid creep. did you tell anyone?

lkaligaris101: no

Tibberon: WHYever NOT?

lkaligaris101: it's not serious! it's over now.

Tibberon: no wonder you hated art school.

lkaligaris101: I don't hate art school I hated the boy.

lkaligaris101: creepy loser

Tibberon: if it gets worse tho tell someone and not just me

Tibberon: you sweared me to secrecy, remember?

lkaligaris101: swore you to secrecy.

Tibberon: right

lkaligaris101: please tib don't tell anyone

Tibberon: I won't relax.

lkaligaris101: comma.

Tibberon: gosh, you're worse than ever

lkaligaris101: i know.

Tibberon: anywho i leave soon for ny

lkaligaris101: I leave soon for risd.

Tibberon: no way, you're going back there? common sense lenny gosh

lkaligaris101: I know but Paul is coming w/ me.

Tibberon: don't play with fire

lkaligaris101: I organized the whole thing. if psychoman sees me with Paul, he'll get frustrated and give it up. if he's not there this summer, great, whoohoo, party summer

Tibberon: careful lena

Tibberon: wait I've got an idea

lkaligaris101: what?

Tibberon: I haven't got anywhere to stay while I do my job, checked with student housing at nyu, there's nothing.

Tibberon: can I stay with you guys at your student housing unit?

lkaligaris101: I'd have to check, but I think it'd be ok.

Tibberon: I have 2 make sure. think I can go. book me being there.

lkaligaris101: got it.

Tibberon: psychoman, here we come.

Bridget lay under the covers of her bed, shivering. She had an extra fleece throw and a sleeping bag on top of her, for pete's sake. She should be overheated, not freezing. She curled up into a ball and rolled back and forth under the covers until her nausea took over and she lay totally flat again, head spinning. That stupid cut. It had probably gotten infected. Anyway, she was totally sick. It was only a matter of time before she started throwing up. She reached over to her nightstand where she knew her bottle of water was and accidentally knocked into the (thankfully empty) throw-up bucket. Groaning, she leaned over to grab it. Her head spun from the sudden motion and she hurled into the bucket. Gross. She tossed the water bottle to the ground and let her arm hang off the side of the bed. What a way to start her summer.

The shivering had ceased and sweat started to pour down Bridget's face. She flung the covers of off the bed and stumbled down the hallway into the bathroom, where she curled up on the bathmat, along with a few towels, and fell asleep.

A few hours later, Bridget was woken from her light sleep by a knock on the bathroom door. "Bridget? You in there?" Bridget's dad said.

"Yeah, daddy, I'm in here."

"Are you okay?"

"Um, I don't think so."

Bridget heard his hand on the doorknob and she stiffened. "Is it okay for me to come in?" he asked tensely.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Bridget's dad entered the room and gasped. "Bridget, what happened?" Bridget realized her disgusting-looking knee was poking out from under the towels, and she slid it under.

"I hurt myself."

"I can see that."

"I cut my knee running today- or yesterday, I think. I'm all dizzy. I just hurled."

"Wow." It came out as just a whisper. "Bridget, did you put any antiseptic on your cut?"

"No," she whimpered.

"That wasn't very smart."

"I know," Bridget whimpered again.

"You've likely got an infection. Why aren't you in your bed?"

"It was too hot."

"Then you've likely got a fever. Here Bridget, I'll help you get back to your room. First thing in the morning I'll take you to the doctor's."

"Okay," Bridget muttered and stood up. She was surprised when her dad picked her up, just like a baby and carried her into her room. He laid her down.

"Now you rest up and I'll drive you to the doctor's in a few hours. First I have to call my secretary and tell her I'll be late."

He exited the room and Bridget looked around herself, puzzled. When had Dad ever given her that much attention? It was kind of scary, but also kind of nice. This was a whole new dad.

A few hours later, at Dr. Ayotte's office, Bridget's outcome was not good.

"So let me get this straight: you were running, you fell and cut yourself and you walked a dozen blocks home. You didn't put antiseptic on the cut, didn't treat it, you just took a nice, long bath and then MSNed your buddies." Dr. Ayotte turned to dad and adjusted her wire-framed glasses. "You didn't ask her what was wrong or anything?"

"I didn't know."

"You didn't know," Dr. Ayotte said in an exasperated tone. She flung her hands to the ceiling. "Lamest excuse ever! She's your daughter! Know where she is! Take care of her." Dad hung his head and rubbed his forehead with his temples.

"Bridget, as it is right now, I think we'll have to send you to the hospital for an x-ray. Walking on your injured knee may have made the injury worse." Dr. Ayotte chastised.

"I didn't have any choice! There was nobody else on the running path! Nobody I knew in the neighborhood to help me!" Bridget yelled. Her voice was hoarse because her throat hurt from hurling.

"You could have been carrying a cell phone to call Dad over here. Anywho, I suspect you have a busted kneecap." The doctor made some notes on her clipboard.

"No! No! Please…" Bridget cried. "I can't have a broken kneecap, I have to play soccer, I have to make the team…" she was ranting.

"Look, girl, I can't control the decisions you make. This is an unfortunate turn of events, but you'll just have to hope for the best." Dr. Ayotte looked up. "I've booked you in at 2:30 for an appointment at the general hospital. You need an x-ray badly. She might be injured more than I think. Plus, she's running a high fever."

Dr. Ayotte said more, but Bridget didn't hear her. No. No. She bent her head forward and clasped her hands together. Please God, don't make it a broken kneecap. I need to make the national women's team so bad. Please, please." Then she tucked her head into her knees and started to cry on the doctor's bed. "Please, God, please."

Ooh! Suspense. Hopefully it wasn't too awful. I'll try to have a new chapter out relatively soon. Thanks for reading!