Kate looks concerned and confused. "What do you mean, Max?" She asks, hand involuntarily going for the cross around her neck.

"It's... It's complicated. Like, really complicated. Something I thought I didn't need to talk about before. But now..." You glance at Warren, who looks apprehensively at you and mouths 'Now? Really?' Your mouth opens and closes a few times but none of the words that are swirling around in your head want to come out.

Kate glances at Warren and rocks on her heels. She's clearly uncomfortable. Why wouldn't she be? It was an awful week and it occurs to you that she really doesn't want to think about it or be reminded of it. And here you are about to make it so much worse. Really, what are you thinking? You can feel the floor drop beneath you and that internal spiral start down into the dark corners of your mind. Thankfully you're interrupted by a new voice.

"So how does it feel to be put in the back corner? This is real prime placement you have here." You can practically hear the sarcasm splashing on the floor as it drips off of Victoria's words. Another unexpected visitor. But still, one you are glad to see.

"Victoria, I-" You begin, turning toward her with a smile starting to form, grateful for the interruption. She's standing by one of the photo uprights as impeccably dressed as ever and with her trademark smirk that turns into a horrified expression. She starts forward and rummages through her purse, pulling out some tissues and interrupting you again.

"Oh god, Max, I'm sorry. I was just kidding, I didn't mean... Oh, I am such an idiot." Victoria starts rambling and it's not until she begins to blot at the tears on your cheeks that you remember you had been crying. "Are you okay? I didn't-"

"It's okay, I'm just overwhelmed by it all." You smile and try to wave her away. "It's been an emotional week."

She gives you her 'I totally don't believe you' look before rolling her eyes and sighing. "Okay, if you say so. But just so you know, I'm actually really happy for you. This is kind of a big deal." Victoria presses the tissues into your hands.

"Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you, Victoria." You reply, taking the tissues and trying to gently finish drying your face. In your mind's eye there flashes the image of Victoria lying bound next to your chair in the Dark Room and you can hear her crying. Just as quickly you shove it aside.

Kate steps in then. "Vic, you didn't tell me you were going to be here too."

"It was a last-minute thing. My evening opened up so I thought, what they hey, let's go see Max's little show." Victoria gives the area a cursory look and nods. "I like what I see so far."

Other people are starting to filter into the second floor of the gallery, bringing the low hum of conversation with them. You do not want them to see you all tear-stained. It doesn't look good for an artist to have a breakdown in her own exhibit. "Hey, I'll be back in a little bit. Warren, could you get me some more wine? I don't know where my glass got to."

"The red, right?" He asks, then gives you a smile before leaving once you nod.

"Are you going to be okay?" Kate asks. "Do you need me to-"

"No, I'll be okay. Just need a couple minutes." You smile and leave to find the bathroom.

"Okay, Max, you need to chill out. You're seriously starting to act like a crazy lady." The bathroom is empty and quiet. You splash some water on your face and for half a moment expect to see graffiti on the mirror when you look up. "Pull yourself together, go back out there and have a good time with Warren and your friends. And don't even think of telling Kate anything. She doesn't need to know."

The words sound good but hollow in your head. You glare at yourself as you dry your face and fix the damage to your mascara. In your mind you can picture Chloe leaning against the other sink, arms crossed and looking somewhere been amused and pissed off. "Aww, is Max Caufield having a bad day?"

"Graham." You say aloud without thinking. "Not Caulfield. And you're not here."

"No, I'm not." Mind-Chloe says. "I'm in a box, in the ground, in the Arcadia Bay Cemetery. William says hi, by the way."

"Oh fuck off." The words are out of your mouth before you realize it. You stare pointedly at the mirror, at your own face instead of where she is in your mind's eye. It doesn't help. The little camera in your head keeps itself focused on Chloe.

"You're the one imagining I'm here, sistah. Gotta say, never thought I'd see the day when Super Max would run away from her friends. Oh right, except that's what happens every time you go off to Seattle, isn't it?" Mind-Chloe smirks. "Good to know it's not just me."

You reach for your purse again and dig through it, trying to find something to distract yourself with, trying not to think about the girl in your mind that just won't leave. Except that she, well, you, won't leave you alone. The imaginary whistling is sharp and annoying. You glare at yourself in the mirror. "What?"

"Yeah, uh, can we just skip all the not-facing-this bullshit and cut about twenty minutes off this little reunion? Jesus, Max, you told Mark Fuckerson to eat shit and die while taped to a chair in that creepy-ass dungeon and you can't talk to your imaginary best friend? What happened to you, girl?"

What you think is:"I killed my best friend after making sure that the only thing she would remember of me was that I abandoned her for five years."

What you say is: "Nothing."

Mind-Chloe taps the side of her head and looks very disappointed. "I'm in your head, Max, I can hear it all. I've got the superpowers this time."

"You tell me." You growl at the sink.

"Maybe you're ready to start actually dealing with this instead of hiding behind guilt and dreams and smoking my old cigarettes? Which, by the way, is hella psychotic. I mean, really, Max, the fuck is up with that?"

Cheeks burning, you refuse to answer. It's not like you haven't asked yourself the same question before. Even Warren has asked that question. You've never answered him either, but you do know what the answer is. You just refuse to say it out loud, and so you stay silent and stare into the sink.

"The better question," mind-Chloe says as you picture her pacing back and forth across the bathroom, "is why you keep that picture framed and on top of your dresser. Do you like torturing yourself with that memory every day, or is it some kind of fucked-up 'get out of jail free' card for the day you either figure out some magic third option or decide you can actually live with blowing away a whole town?"

"Fuck off."

"Would love to. Can't. I'm just your imagination at work, Mighty Max, so you have to pull the plug on me. Again."

That last word cuts like a red-hot knife. Again. Maybe you really do just want to torture yourself. It's certainly the easier choice. The first tears that hit the bowl are clear, but soon the falling drops are tinged grey with the remains of your earlier touchup. Off to the side the door opens and you hear Victoria's voice.

"Max? Are you okay? You've been gone a long- Oh, Max…" Her shoes click on the floor and a hand is on your shoulder moments later. "Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay, you hear me?"

You don't answer. Your eyes are screwed up tight and you are trying desperately to stop the shaking as you choke back an audible sob. "It's… I'm…"

She cuts you off, voice as firm as you've ever heard it. "Max Graham, don't you dare tell me you're okay. This is supposed to be a big night for you and here you are, crying your eyes out in the bathroom. What gives?"

How are you supposed to tell her why you're crying? That you can feel the weight of a morphine injector and a photograph in your hands and it feels like the weight of an entire world. That you've been arguing with an imaginary version of your dead best friend. Since you can't go with 'the Truth' you settle on 'true': "I'll be okay, really. It's just been a rough day. Realized this morning that it's been almost five years since... since that day. It hit me harder than I thought it would."

Victoria's expression cools rapidly. "Yeah." She says and glances at the mirror. "Well, I'm officially done with this event now. How about we blow this place and start the afterparty early? Bar at the corner looks good."

"Sure." You say. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Don't keep me waiting, Max." With that admonishment and another glance in the mirror, Victoria leaves.

Once again you dry your face and try to fix the damage that your tears have done. It's harder this time. You just can't seem to focus on what you're doing. Every time you manage to focus on your eyes, you feel eyes watching you and you look away, expecting to see a different face staring back at you with accusing eyes. But every time it's just your own blue eyes: tired, stormy blue eyes.

They're waiting for you by the picture of the kids running across the parking lot, standing away from the trickle of people that are walking by and looking at the pictures. Warren turns from the conversation he's having with Kate to smile and offer you the wine he's holding. You accept it gratefully and take a sip. Victoria looks impatient, like she's going to just take off any second now for the exit. Kate smiles at you and brushes an errant hair back behind her ear. She's the first one to speak. "Everything okay?"

You put on a brave face and decide to be honest with her. "Not right now, but I will be. A lot of unpleasant memories this time of year that's the pictures aren't helping. Do, uh, you mind if we leave, at least for right now?"

Victoria's expression doesn't change, but Warren's and Kate's do as they understand what you mean. Warren comes to your side and puts an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. It's a comfortable, safe gesture, and one that you greatly appreciate. You lean into him, chasing after that feeling, wanting to wrap it around you like a blanket.

"There's a bar on the corner we could go to." Victoria volunteers and looks to Kate. "This isn't really a good place to catch up in."

Kate seems unsure, but her smile is only gone for a moment before she nods. "Yes, let's do that. We can come back later."

Jeff is concerned at first when you let him know that you're going to be leaving early, but is easily placated by an explanation that you're just not feeling quite right tonight and by a promise that both you and Kate will come back tomorrow to help make a few changes to the display. Beyond that he continues, "You simply have to do an independent show here. The Carmichael Collection leaves in six weeks and there's nothing scheduled yet to take its place. If you can get me thirty pictures for review by the end of the month, I think we can make something happen."

You promise to think about it and Warren makes a note on his phone to remind you later. As you leave the building he kisses your head again and says, "You're moving on up, babe. When do you think the National Gallery's gonna call?"

"Oh please." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Secretly though, you are excited. This isn't a very big or prestigious gallery, but it's a start. So as you walk down the sidewalk with your husband and friends, the sad darkness that has filled your mind lightens a little and you can almost enjoy the rain that continues to fall on the city.