Summer: Advice

Izzy burst through the front door of his home, dragging his luggage across the porch and down its stairs. His mother followed at a more sedate pace, locking the door while he rushed to the cars on the driveway.

Almost two hours had passed since his disastrous Skype call with Amy. Hana was gone, the necessities were packed, and he had the reluctant permission of Dr. Edwards and the professor he assisted to take a few days off.

Izzy felt like he had survived battles to get this far, and the train ride still awaited him, followed by a potentially catastrophic encounter with Amy. He was strung out and agitated, constantly moving, tapping his feet or drumming his fingers. The idea of being trapped on a train in this state was not appealing.

Grimacing, he checked his phone again for a sign of activity from Amy, but there were no notifications. He was tempted to leave another message, but his logic had recovered enough to point out that there was nothing new to add to the previous ones. And while he was willing to grovel in this case, he would rather do it without his mother around.

Izzy opened the trunk of his mother's car and stored his suitcase inside. He placed the backpack containing his laptop and computer supplies on the back seat, then opened the driver's door for his mother. Izzy sat on the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. "Thank you for dropping me off."

"Of course." Yeva backed out of their long driveway, peering over her shoulder. They were silent for a time, but Izzy noticed his mother glancing at him. He suppressed his body's reaction of tensing and angling away from her.

"Izzy..." she began at last. He swallowed hard and pried his eyes away from the window, acknowledging his mother.

They were at a red light, and she turned her full attention to him. Concern filled the dark eyes that always watched over him, and Izzy looked away, despite his best efforts. Poor woman... Will there ever be a time when I won't be a constant source of worry for her?

"Can I ask what this is all about? Suddenly rushing off to Ohio like this..."

The light changed, and Izzy relaxed a touch as Yeva returned her focus to the road. His brain churned, searching for an explanation, but he couldn't conceive of a way to cover everything up. Sighing, he sagged forward until the seatbelt locked.

"There was a... miscommunication between myself and Amy." It wasn't a real explanation, but Izzy had no clue how to elaborate without launching into an epic narrative, which he had no desire to do. Yeva inhaled slowly, and Izzy wondered if she was searching for patience, fortitude, both, or something else entirely. She didn't scold him, but he felt the sting of chastisement, regardless.

"Did it have something to do with Hana?" Yeva asked.

Izzy clasped his hands, forcing them to stop twitching. "She was a catalyst of sorts, but Hana wasn't to blame. I didn't realize that her presence at our home and her subsequent knowledge of personal information about me would cause Amy to feel threatened. I failed to recognize that Amy wants to meet you and Dad. And all of this was piled abruptly on top of existing strain."

"Hmm..." Yeva was silent for a while, likely weighing his words. Izzy was just beginning to appreciate the care she took with requesting and digesting information from him. She had nineteen years of experience in trying to wring facts out of his short, often cryptic replies. Another sting of shame bit into him, and yet he couldn't offer a more forthcoming explanation. He tsked and stared out of his window, disgusted with himself. Familiar fields filled with crops and livestock flew by without his notice.

"I don't understand why you haven't invited Amy over." Izzy nodded, appreciating Yeva's hint about the information she lacked, even as he hesitated to reply. When the pause ran too long, she added, "Is it something we did?"

Izzy jerked back, straightening his slumped spine. "No! Of course not. You and Dad- I could never be anything but proud of you." He was so busy faltering that he missed his mother's soft, trembling smile. "It's not... It's unrelated to you."

"What's the problem, then?"

Izzy wrapped his arms over his stomach, an unconscious response to its sudden squirming. He never mentioned Shauna if he could help it, especially to Yeva. But I can't allow her to assume that she's somehow to blame...

"Shauna visited our home frequently," he said at last, speaking to his lap. The car jerked slightly to the right, then quickly straightened out.

"I haven't met Amy," Yeva said, her voice muted by her clenched teeth. "But I already know she's not... The way you speak of her, the way you look when you read her texts... That's why your father and I are so eager to meet her. We want to welcome and know someone you think of so highly."

An odd feeling, half warmth and half ache, rippled down Izzy's nervous system. "I know. I trust Amy completely, but I can't... I can't seem to forget what happened with Shauna, especially when I'm in the same environment."

Yeva turned towards him, exclaimed, then ripped her attention back to the road. "Izzy, you haven't been comfortable at home? That's not- we want it to be a safe place for you-"

"Please, it's not your fault." Izzy placed his hand on his mother's shoulder, his agitation spiking beyond hers. "It's something that so many people just, just shrug off on their own. I don't know why I'm so fragile about it, but it's not a reflection of you."

"Oh, Izzy. Of course it still hurts. It wasn't a normal break-up, it wasn't something that should happen to anyone. That, that girl..." She broke off with a sound that bordered on snarling, and Izzy's eyes widened.

"M-mom," he stuttered.

Her shoulders slumped as she sighed. "I'm sorry. I just... Well. You're not weak or broken, Izzy. But I want to help you, so if you're having problems, please tell me. Is there something we can do to make home more welcoming for you and Amy?"

Izzy hesitated. He knew what he wanted, but he also knew that his mother would understand the implications too clearly. Heat rushed to his face so quickly that he went light-headed. "Um... I've had my current bedding set for a while..."

Yeva was quiet for so long that Izzy almost wondered if she hadn't heard him. "You've had the mattress for a long time, too."

"Mom, that's too much. Mattresses are expensive-"

"And they aren't designed to last forever," Yeva interrupted. "You've had yours since you graduated from a crib. It's well past time for a replacement. I'll look into it while you're gone."

Izzy scowled and tipped his head, trying to recall the cost of mattresses. "I can probably afford one," he said slowly.

A soft laugh had him turning towards his mother. "Sweetheart, please. You haven't asked us for anything since your first laptop." She squeezed his knee, then patted it a few times. "Let us treat you every now and then."

Izzy looked away. "You and Dad have already given me so much. Everything. I, I don't have the right to ask for more."

The patting abruptly turned into a vice hold. "You are my son," she said firmly. "I reserve the right to give you presents. That's what mothers do."

Izzy hesitated, trying to work out her emphasis on 'son' and 'mothers.' When he understood, he placed his hand on Yeva's and squeezed. "I beg your pardon. I stand corrected. Thank you very much."

The tension slowly leaked out of her body, and then she turned to him and smiled. "Good boy. I love you so, Izzy."

"I, I..." Izzy swallowed hard and stared out the window, hiding his uncomfortable expression. Yeva giggled and patted his knee one last time.

"Watching you flounder when I say that never gets old."

"M-mom!" Yeva's giggling shifted to full blown laughter. Izzy endured in silence, watching his face redden in the side mirror beyond his window.

When she recovered, Yeva turned the subject, and Izzy jumped on the new topic, following her lead to comfortable ground.

The break was welcome, especially considering what was still to come.

Elsewhere

Amy followed Dyani out of the forest and into their familiar clearing. It was a standard July afternoon, bright and scorching, but cooler by the river and the trees. The little waterfall sang as it tripped over moss-covered stones and flowed into the lake, which fed a river that carried the sparkling current through the forest. The beautiful scenery eased some of her pain, as fresh and raw as it was, and Amy breathed deeply, savoring the scents of growing things and fresh water.

She helped Dyani spread a blanket on the rust-colored sand by the shore. The moment it was down, she removed the burden slung over her back and sat. Her hands roamed reverently over the black case. "I wish I knew you had a guitar this whole time." Amy hadn't touched one all summer, since hers was at home, and her fingertips seemed to vibrate over the battered surface of the case, eager with proximity to the instrument.

"I prefer to travel lightly," Dyani said. Her backpack thudded against the sand. It was much bigger and heavier-looking than the drawstring bag she usually carried.

Amy's hands landed on the latches and froze. "Do you mind?" Dyani shook her head, so she flipped the hooks and lifted the lid. The instrument's pale, poplar face winked up at her, sunlight glinting off the pick guard. It was worn and scratched, and the fretboard bore faint impressions from the repeated kiss of fingertips.

"She's beautiful," Amy murmured. "What's her name?"

There was a pause, but Amy was too focused on the instrument to notice. She lifted it and draped the strap over her shoulder. It was decorated with a triangle pattern in bold shades of green, red, and white.

"Amadahy," Dyani said at last. Coloring, Amy looked up from the instrument, suddenly recalling the other girl's presence. "How did you know she has a name? I don't think anyone's ever asked."

Amy smiled sheepishly and trailed a fingertip over the strings. "Who could resist naming something they've spent so much time with? Especially something with a voice."

Dyani stared at her for a few beats, her expression impassive. "I would like to hear you play."

Amy sighed, but her hands slid into position. "I'm told my playing is mediocre, but I would love to. I haven't touched a guitar for almost two months." She strummed experimentally and made some adjustments using the tuner stored in the case.

Then the first chord struck, mellow and deep. The sound rolled off the instrument and through her body, and everything beyond that sensation evaporated. Her fingers worked on their own, shifting to muscle memory as her mind went adrift on the music. Her voice rose, uncertainly at first, rusty with disuse. It twined together with the guitar, creating an aching song accompanied by the trickle of water and the sporadic cries of birds. The hurt ruptured from her heart like a knot of thorns that tore up her throat and burst through her mouth. Her eyelids burned, already inflamed from crying just half an hour earlier, but she didn't feel the pain. The catharsis of music was all that mattered, and a single three minute song relieved her more than an hour of crying could.

The last notes faded, and Amy's fingers fumbled, unsure of what followed. She lifted her head and frowned, blinking around the clearing. A jarring sense of shifting from fantasy to reality overwhelmed her, like walking out of a theater or finishing a book. She remembered Dyani and flushed.

"It's, um, it's a great guitar," Amy babbled, lifting it over her head. "Plays really well."

Dyani reached for her backpack and extracted a packet of tissues from the side pocket. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked. She plucked a tissue out before offering the rest to Amy.

"Um?" Amy sat the guitar across her lap and accepted the packet. Dyani wiped her eyes, and Amy realized that her own were streaming.

Stupid, stupid! "S-sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to be depressing. Here." She tried to hand the guitar off, but Dyani shook her head.

"I brought it here hoping that my playing might cheer you up. I had no idea that you..." Dyani threaded her fingers through her thick hair and tugged it away from her face. Amy edged back. She recognized this shock, and the sudden reassessment that accompanied it.

"I'm not very good at guitar. Clumsy fingers, you know? My friend Matt is much better." Of course, the guitar playing wasn't the point, and she knew it.

Dyani scratched her head, tangling black strands between her fingers. "You just sat down and started singing like... Few artists perform so well on stage, from a technical perspective. Fewer perform with such emotion."

"Oh, well." While she was pleased with the praise, Amy was embarrassed, and keenly aware that Dyani might start treating her differently now. "Thank you. Uh, but- It's probably harder to channel an emotion you're not feeling? I don't know if it's a fair comparison..."

Dyani's stare was a dead weight, and Amy bowed her shoulders. She put the guitar back on and started strumming, trying to soothe herself. A slow, winding sigh made her glance up.

"I wish I could carry that kind of talent. It is weightless, and yet... It can soothe, heal, celebrate, mourn." Her thin lips twisted into a smile. "And I would earn much more as a street performer that way."

Amy's head jerked up. "Street performer?"

Dyani's smile grew. "Mm. I could tell you about it... But I would like to swim. With a sound track, of course."

Amy's fingertips smushed against the frets, resulting in a horrible, half-muted twang. "Are you- Are you bribing me to sing for you?"

"And play, yes. But I would rather think of it as an exchange. A song for a story, a familiar bargain for me."

Dyani stood, stripped to the swimsuit beneath her clothing, and slid into the river. "Have you put on your sunscreen?" she called innocently.

And sighed, stood, and removed her clothes. While she wasn't fond of lounging in her swimsuit, the summer days were blazing. And she couldn't argue with the honey-colored tan growing more prominent each day.

She applied the sunscreen, sat her water bottle at her knee, and began to play while Dyani glided through the river, her body tanned, lithe, and fit. Eventually Amy grew too hot to continue, so she placed the instrument in its case and joined Dyani in the water. It embraced her, a cool kiss that shivered up her spine and over her limbs, instantly easing the heat baked into her body. Hours bled by as they enjoyed themselves, sometimes chatting, sometimes swimming, sometimes resting on the blanket.

Eventually, the sun sank beneath the trees, and the clearing grew too cool for swimming. Shivering, Amy climbed out of the water and wrapped herself in her towel. When she was dry, she pulled her clothing on and fell onto the blanket with a faint thud. Dyani approached a few minutes later, and they lay side-by-side, staring up at the reddening sky.

"How do you feel?" Dyani asked. As always, her voice was husky and low, inherently pleasing and sensual. Amy smiled, responding to the appealing sound.

"Much better, honestly. When I was in my room, it was like the end of the world. Now… I mean, it still hurts, but… At least I don't feel like I'm being crushed anymore."

"A small world collapses easily." Dyani yawned and stretched, and the shifting made Amy glance over. The girl moved like a cat, slowly and deliberately, with natural ease and elasticity. "A cramped dorm room is the worst place to hurt. Outside, there are no boundaries locking you in with whatever is bothering you." Dyani rolled onto her side, and her hair pooled around her, wet and tangled from swimming. Her dark, steady eyes captured Amy's, a lovely trap, but a trap nonetheless. "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

Amy's front teeth sank into her lower lip. She didn't want to talk about it, but Dyani had already helped her shift from miserable to sad, and that wasn't something she could repay with stiff silence. "My boyfriend," she muttered, turning her face towards the sky. The clouds were turning pink, fluffy cotton candy drifting thousands of feet overhead. The cute visual should have cheered her, but she scowled. "I've been upset with him this whole time, to be honest. When I was deciding if I should take this research job or not, he never said that he would miss me or worry about me or… Or anything like that. He just said that I should take the job, since he'd be too busy to spend time with me anyway."

Her tone soured with bitterness. This has been a long time coming, hasn't it. Ignoring the thought, she continued, "Then he forgot to pick me up and take me to the train station, like he promised, and his phone was silenced, so he didn't hear me calling and texting him. He apologized, and we were patching things up, but then… I called him today, and he was tutoring our friend, Hana. Which is fine, until I realized that… That they were at his house, in his bedroom, and I've never been there, and I've never met his parents, and apparently they're his adoptive parents, which I didn't know, but she does, and she's met his mom, and people have assumed that they were together in the past, and now that I think about it, he tutored her on the day he forgot to pick me up, and I can't, I c-can't-"

Dyani passed her the packet of tissues. Amy ripped one free and dabbed her eyes, pausing to collect herself. "I know Izzy and Hana. They're good people. They wouldn't… But I'm worried that they're… While I'm gone, he might be falling for her. Or maybe he already was. Maybe it doesn't matter at all if I'm physically in the same place as him or not, like he said. Or maybe... Well, I guess I don't know what to think."

"Hmm..." Dyani sat up and pulled her backpack towards her. As she opened side pockets and dug around, she said, "Have you spoken to him since?"

"No. I left my phone in my room." Amy's mood shifted abruptly to discomfort. What if Izzy was trying to reach her? He had called after she cut off the Skype call, but she turned her phone off and then forgot about the device.

"That is for the best. You needed time to think and feel," Dyani said. "But you won't be able to put your mind to rest until you speak to him. I am afraid that I have no answers for you."

There was a twang of pain in her temple, and Amy rubbed at it and closed her eyes. "You're right. I know you are, but... Talking hasn't helped so far."

Dyani pulled a baggie out of her pack and placed it on the ground. Amy couldn't see what she was doing from this angle, and was too focused on her problems to investigate. "Have you told him everything you were thinking?"

"W-What do you mean?" Amy asked, trying to ignore the nervous prickle shooting over her skin.

"You are guarded," Dyani said. "And I could picture you holding back complaints to spare your partner's feelings. And that kindness is good, but you have just as much of a duty to be kind to yourself. These problems will not improve if you ignore them. If you want to stop hurting, start talking." Her neutral expression shifted to a scowl. "Many men will make you shout to be heard, then scold you for your lack of composure. Yours isn't like that, I hope."

"He's not," Amy said. "Of course not."

Dyani grinned, easing the harsh angles in her face and altering its architecture. "Then there is no danger in saying what you need to say."

"I know," Amy muttered. "But it's so hard… I really don't want to hurt his feelings."

Dyani stretched a finger towards her until it landed above her left breast. "You have a sweet heart. That is rarer than you'd think. I imagine losing you because you never told him your needs would hurt him worse than being corrected."

Amy's eyes filled with moisture that stung her agitated lids. "T-thank you," she muttered. "You're very kind."

Dyani's pronounced shoulder blades rose and fell with a soft laugh. "Only to people I like. And I don't like many people, so I am overstocked on kindness."

Amy was struggling to reply when a flash of light caught her eye. She rose to a sitting position and peeked over Dyani's shoulder. She was holding a lit cigarette, though it was larger and lumpier than any Amy had seen before.

"Do you mind?" Dyani asked.

"Not at all." Amy hoped her lie wasn't obvious. She was paranoid about protecting her lungs, and cigarette smoke made her choke and back away. Hopefully being outside will help... Amy watched Dyani take a few drags, breathing in clean air and breathing out smoke. A long silence followed, and she closed her eyes and tried to relax, listening to the laughing river and the cries of insects and birds, which rose in volume as the sun dropped.

"How is a boyfriend supposed to treat his girlfriend?" Amy jerked after she spoke, surprised by her own voice and the stubborn turn of her thoughts. Belatedly, she realized that her anxious, uncertain tone made her sound like a child. She was sharply remind of corroborating facts with adults long ago, usually Tai's parents or Matt's father.

Dyani stared at her, eyes more focused than Amy had ever seen them, but somehow dulled. Bluish smoke drifted out of here mouth and nostrils. A clump of green, chunky powder fell from one end of the rolled wrapper, and Dyani muttered a curse and bent to retrieve it.

"How do you want to be treated?" Dyani countered. "That is your answer, although many people require too much of their partner with two little offered in return."

"That doesn't really smell like a cigarette," Amy deflected. The smoke didn't stink of ash and nicotine. It was sweet, but with an underlying pungent quality.

Dyani blinked slowly. "Oh- you don't know? It's pot. Would you like a drag?" She held the joint out, and Amy inched back, then hastened to mask her surprise. Regardless, Dyani's tiny smile seemed to scream, You're so naive.

"No? That is fine. I brought drinks, too." With that, Dyani hauled the massive backpack closer and unzipped it, revealing a small collection of alcohol bottles. She pulled two metal cups out and offered one to Amy.

"W-what? Why do you have...?"

Dyani frowned slightly and tipped her head. "These are common remedies for troubles. I thought you might need them."

"O-oh. Thank you." Drinking in the middle of the woods after sunset seemed a bit odd, and perhaps unwise, but she didn't want to refuse Dyani's generosity. And besides, the thought of being drunk right now was tremendously appealing. Amy inched closer and peered into the bag. "Do you have rum?"

Dyani selected a bottle and offered it to her, but Amy was too shocked to take it. "Wow! You have a guitar and my favorite alcohol? Are you-"

Her mouth snapped shut just in time to contain the rest of the sentence. Dyani cocked an eyebrow in silent inquiry, and Amy shifted uncomfortably. "S-sorry. I just, I almost said something that might be… racist? Or at least insensitive."

The girl's face snapped into that familiar impassive expression. "Then it is fortunate that I am high."

"S-sorry! I didn't mean it badly. I just… You just happen to have all of these things that make me feel better, and you have so much great advice, and I'm almost convinced that you're magic."

Dyani's posture relaxed as a grin spread across her face. "Ah. Well, I cannot take too much offense. Sometimes, when I was a child, I pretended that I was. The white girls would crowd around, and I would speak some Cherokee and tell them that I was invoking a nature spell. It worked so often that I almost convinced myself that I was a mystic."

"It worked?" Amy edged closer, warming up to the story. Dyani's smile grew as she leaned nearer in turn.

"The key to mysticism is vagueness. Nature will always supply something: a rabbit running out from under a bush, a flock of geese passing overhead, a fruit falling from a tree." Dyani allowed her a space for response, then placed the rum bottle by her knee. "Would you like some? Hold your cup in a shallow part of the river without soaking the rim or inside. It's designed to cool quickly."

"Oh! That's convenient." Amy took both cups to the shore and dipped them in the cold water. She glanced over her shoulder to watch Dyani blow perfect smoke rings that rose lazily towards the first waking stars.

"So, you're Cherokee?" Amy asked. Dyani grunted, which she took as confirmation. "You haven't told me much about yourself yet."

"Not much to tell," Dyani replied. When Amy scoffed, she laughed and added, "Alright. I suppose my life is probably different than yours." She waved a hand through the newest smoke ring, scattering it into a network of fine tendrils that quickly faded. "I was born on a Cherokee reservation. I spent my childhood roaming the open land, avoiding people and duties as much as possible. I would spend hours dozing by creeks and rivers, running wild, or watching bees drift between flowers or squirrels burying nuts. I loved the physical place, but..."

Her face contorted with a harsh grimace. "I hated the tourists, gawking at us, expecting us to educate them, laughing at our old traditions. I hated that my parents wanted me to perform for guests, to stay on the reservation forever." She paused and took a few brooding puffs. "Do you know what it's like to talk about the Trail of Tears every day? To summarize all of that suffering in front of uncomfortable adults and bored children?"

"I'm sorry." Amy had no idea what else to say, and she sensed that there was no appropriate response, regardless.

Dyani sighed and lowered the joint. "To be fair, it is good that people visit the reservation wanting to learn. Our people need that representation. I love my parents and brothers, and I am proud of them and the work they do. But I could not stand to talk about our history, so becoming a visitor ambassador and performer like the rest of my family was... Not for me."

"So you decided to leave?"

"Mm."

Amy was trying to picture everything all at once: the reservation, the performances, the tourists, and Dyani's frustration. The hazy images and ideas crashed together, leaving a meaningless jumble that gave her a headache. She moved on to her next question, which gripped her interest even more strongly. "How did you manage that?"

"My family does not have much, and I understood from a young age that I would need money to travel. I learned how to play traditional instruments so I could perform on the reservation for tips. I learned how to care for bees and collect honey. I learned that good grades yield scholarships, and that there are special programs for Native Americans. I applied for every scholarship I could find for college, and now I spend as much time as I can traveling."

"You're doing this all by yourself?" Amy asked. "That's amazing! How do you support yourself now?" Thoughts of her family rose unbidden, and Amy tried to shush them. She doubted that she would be able to achieve the independence that Dyani had won.

Dyani held a hand up, extending a finger with each new point. "Everything I own fits in a carry-on suitcase, a backpack, and a guitar case. I couch surf and barter without money, trading a few hours of work for shelter, guitar music for food, trinkets for rides. I take as many temporary working opportunities in new places as possible. Jobs that include food, shelter, and chances to learn are ideal, like this one." A wry smile passed her lips as she exhaled a plume of smoke. "Although I already have the itch to move, and half the summer remains."

Amy's fingers were numb with cold conducted through the metal. She lifted the cups from the river and returned to Dyani, offering one to her. Although she wanted financial independence and freedom from her family, the lifestyle Dyani was describing just wasn't for her. As she poured a drink, she said, "We're so different. I always want to stay in one place, and I want my friends to be there, too."

"And I always want to roam. Both are valid options."

Amy took a sip of rum. The alcohol slammed against her taste buds, overloading them with that familiar, harsh tang. The first mouthfuls were uncomfortable, but each swallow was more palatable than the last. "Do you feel restless when you stay somewhere for too long?"

"I do. It is like an itch." Dyani was lying still on her blanket, except for taking the occasional drag. Her eyes were shut, and her expression was completely blanked and relaxed. She pointed to her forehead and said, "My mind demands new images, new sounds, new tastes, new faces, new facts. I do not know why. The hunger for novelty is like an addiction. But it is what it is; I can accommodate it or go mad."

Amy threw back the rest of her rum. She had downed about two shots, and the mellowing effect was already evident. She refilled her cup and said, "How do you plan on being able to travel in the future?"

"I am specializing in livestock husbandry," Dyani replied. "There are domestic animals in every settlement, and many parts of the world are lacking in trained vets for large animals. I should always be able to trade my skills for room and board, if money is unavailable."

Amy swirled her cup, watching the liquid move in a vortex. "Do you ever worry about someone trying to hurt you?"

Dyani smiled, slowly and lazily, like the Chesire cat. "Remember what I said about skills with no physical weight? I have some that help."

"You mean physical defense?" Amy imagined Dyani performing martial arts sequences from films and smiled. She's so graceful… I bet she looks amazing doing moves like that.

"Yes. Krav maga and hapkido, mostly."

Dyani's eyes were closed, so Amy indulged in a grimace. "I've seen videos of krav maga..."

"It is efficient. That is why I chose it."

Amy sighed and took a long draught of rum. By now, all she tasted was its sweetness, untouched by the bite of alcohol. Memories of her recent nightmares and her lingering strain around men whispered through the comfort of her buzz, and she shook her head to clear them out. Maybe I should learn self defense, too...

Amy settled down beside Dyani on the blanket. "You're really cool. I wish I could be independent and adventurous, but I could hardly convince myself to come here. Your life is like an awesome novel, especially compared to mine."

Dyani's eyes drifted open, moving with the hazy lethargy of a dream. "There is plenty to admire about you. I do not know you well, but you strike me as having a kind heart, and it is clear that you are devoted to the people you love. Those two qualities alone distinguish you."

Amy hesitated, torn between pleasure, embarrassment, and uncertainty. Logically, she knew that being considered kind was high praise. But she couldn't help wishing for flashier virtues, like Tai's courage and likability, Matt's talent and natural appeal, Izzy's raw intellectual ability, or Mimi's electrifying beauty and presence. The thought of falling into the "nice guy" category failed to hearten her.

Dyani stared unblinkingly at her until Amy felt forced to look away. "You aren't pleased."

"No, I am. That's really nice of you, thanks. But I guess... Sometimes, I wish I could offer more than... You know. Basic decency."

Dyani snorted so hard that a puff of smoke crashed into Amy's face. "I keep telling you that goodness is not as common as you think. Regardless… You were chosen to study bats here, one out of a group of students, correct? And there is your singing, as well."

Amy sighed deeply. "I guess..."

"You need more?" Dyani tsked, but she was smiling. "Fine, then. I will tell you something I have been keeping to myself."

"Oh?" Amy inched closer, eager to hear a secret from her mysterious friend. The girl's expression subtly changed in a way that Amy could almost, but not quite, understand.

"Your boyfriend," she whispered. "Are you and he monogamous?"

"Huh?" Amy tried to tip her head, but only managed to smack it against the ground. Dyani laughed and slid closer. "I don't- Yes? Would he be my boyfriend if we weren't?"

"There are many types of relationships. I'm asking if yours is open." Dyani paused, still staring at her face, and Amy realized that she was waiting for her to say or do something. Amy shrank back, confused and disoriented.

"I am coming on to you," Dyani explained, eyes narrowing. "You do realize that?"

"W-what?" In a small instance of mercy, Amy was too dazed to show more than a fraction of her shock.

"You are surprised," Dyani observed. "Why?"

"Well- I-" A thousand answers flitted through her brain, swirling like dirt in a sandstorm. She was too off-balance to select among them. "I- I- Me? W-why?"

Dyani smiled and shook her head. "Because I find you attractive and likable. This should not be a foreign concept. Your boyfriend must think so, too."

"Oh- Well- Izzy-" Amy attempted a few more aborted sentences, then fell silent. It was probably better not to mention that she couldn't convince her boyfriend to approach her sexually. The thought burst her confidence like a pin stabbing a balloon, and she unconsciously angled herself away from Dyani. "I, I'm not..." She swept a hand up and down, indicating her reclining form. "Nothing special."

Dyani apparently interpreted her gesture as an invitation. She drew herself onto an elbow in an easy, languid motion, then ran her eyes over her. Her glance had an almost tangible weight, and Amy suppressed the urge to squirm with difficulty. She was absurdly grateful that she had put her clothing back on over her bikini.

Those dark, inscrutable eyes finally landed on Amy's. In a low voice, she whispered, "I disagree."

Goosebumps erupted over Amy's skin, borne by a shiver that had nothing to do with the evening chill. In all nineteen of her years, only three people had looked at her like that, like she was a treat that they craved. When Jerry gave her that look, his intensity and self-assurance caused a strong urge to flee. The memory was hazy, but Amy vaguely recalled Izzy's mixed expression of desperation, desire, and delirious surrender on Halloween night. She avoided picturing it, since it caused an ache in her heart and body that he had no intention of easing.

Dyani's expression called those complex emotions to mind, but with a unique flavor that left Amy staring, mesmerized, back at her. Neither Jerry's dominance nor Izzy's conflict reflected on her face. Amy's stalling processor shifted through explanations with the sluggishness of a system riddled with malware before deciding that Dyani was doing nothing more or less than extending an invitation.

"I, I'm sorry," she nearly squeaked. "I, I-"

"You are monogamous," Dyani supplied. "Or simply not interested. I suspected as much, but I thought I would ask."

"I'm sorry," she blurted, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

"Don't apologize." A faint, foreign sharpness snuck into Dyani's tone. "Never apologize for turning down sex. You owe nothing to anyone sexually."

"O-okay." Amy fell silent, trying to gather herself. Her heart beat so hard and fast that it became a ball of throbbing pressure in her chest. The dark forest blurred under the influence of shock and alcohol, the indistinct background of a dream. Amy tried to poke the fingers of one hand through the palm of the other, a test she used to distinguish between lucid dreaming and reality. A solid barrier of flesh blocked the pass.

Not dreaming. Just drunk and in a surreal situation. Her face scrunched up as she tried to decide how weird this interaction was. Was Dyani seriously sexually interested in her? How did she feel about that interest, and did it change anything between them?

Predictably, her inebriated brain offered no answers. Dyani was looking at her, and Amy cast about for something, anything to say. "Um... What about my boyfriend?"

Suddenly, Dyani's hand was closed around her wrist. That slow, considering quality fled from her voice, and she sounded like a stranger. "If he is pressuring you to do something you don't want to-"

Amy's cheeks were already warm from drinking, but they shifted to blazing. She turned away from Dyani and her concern, embarrassed and guilty. "N-No. It's kind of... the other way around."

Dyani's grip went slack. She backed off, looking a bit dazed. "Ah. You have been together for a while, yes?"

"About nine months." She winced without meaning to, somehow shocked at how much time had passed with so few developments. "I don't want to pressure him, but... I worry about what that means about us. And sometimes... I feel like that distance isn't just physical."

Dyani's expression shifted back towards that familiar neutral. "You need to talk to him, Amy. Talk until your voice is spent."

The stinging of her eyes caught her by surprise. "You're right. I, I will. I'll call in sick tomorrow and talk at him all day if I have to. If he'll let me," she added, voice tightening as she recalled his packed schedule. "It's Sunday, so he should pick up."

"I imagine he will leap onto the phone." Dyani's poker face remained, but a trace of humor lightened her voice. She took a deep drag and added, "Things will work out. But if they don't... Then call me."

For a moment, Amy thought the offer was one of pure support. Then Dyani winked, and a choked laugh burst free from Amy's diaphragm. "Dyani! We're friends! Wouldn't sleeping together make that weird?" She nearly added that she didn't know what girls did together in bed anyway, but she discarded that question. The information might cause a fatal processor overload right now.

Dyani eased back and sat, crossing her legs. She took a few brooding puffs before answering. "I do not have many friends. Introversion and constant travel will do that."

"What?" Since Dyani was sitting, Amy dragged herself from her back to her tush. "You? But you're so cool. I bet everyone wants to be your friend."

A grin passed her face, there and gone like blinking. "And there is your sweet heart again. Amy, I am silent and always stone-faced."

"Even when you're not stoned?" Amy quipped, but Dyani ignored the interruption.

"Most people fail to see me when they are looking at me. And the ones who do..." Thin, defined shoulders rose and fell in a quick motion. "People want so much. Too much. It is exhausting, even frightening at times."

"Oh... So we aren't...?" A deep ache spread from Amy's heart, and she drooped, slumping forward. "I kind of thought we were. You've been so kind to me."

Dyani sighed and reclined on the blanket once more, propped on her knee like an ancient Roman on a lounging sofa. "If I have been, then that kindness is not my typical behavior."

Amy scowled as she tried and failed to make sense of that remark. Was it a compliment or an attempt to back off? But her buzz was advancing into full-blown drunkenness, and her brain warped the words and their meaning into gibberish.

Amy fell against the blanket. The night was amorphous, the stars spun overhead, and, if she concentrated, she thought she could hear the planets whirl as they made their rotation around the sun. The music of the night blended with the music of the orbs.

She was drunk, Dyani was high, and everything was lovely.

"Your name should be Sage," she said, forgetting that they were potentially not friends.

"Yours should be Thrush."

"That's not a very good name."

"Then maybe I shouldn't be Sage."

"Hey, Sage?"

"Yes, Thrush?"

"Let's be bros."

"I'm afraid we're both female."

"Gals? Nononono I got it- Bras!"

Dyani snorted and ran her fingers through Amy's hair, absently untangling some wet clumps. "I will leave the labeling up to you. Either way, if we are going to be close, you have to be alright with my going my own way for extended periods of time."

"That's fine. I don't mind. Maybe you can send me some postcards?"

"I would like that. And you can send me pictures of your world."

"Deal!" Amy cried, smacking her shoulder. Her friend grinned and turned the subject, and they stared at the stars and chatted late into the night.

Elsewhere

The cabin rocked gently as the train glided down the tracks. Izzy stared out of the window, watching the scenery shift from rural to suburban, then back to rural. Before long, the train would have to find its way through the Appalachian mountains, likely passing beautiful views set aflame by the sinking sun.

He tried to relax and enjoy them, but he was too restless. Travel conditions were ideal; the cabin was half empty, the seat beside him was unoccupied, and his fellow passengers were nearly silent. Normally, he'd be programming or grading student homework, tasks that certainly required his attention. But he was too busy fretting to accomplish anything.

What would Amy say when she saw him? Would he even be welcome? What would he do if she slammed her door in his face? If only I knew what to say to her... She's kind, and she wouldn't turn me away if I could apologize and explain myself properly. But what should I say?

His fingertips ruffled through the papers in his folder, then landed on a piece of loose leaf covered in a swirling, girlish hand. Recognizing Hana's handwriting, Izzy pulled the paper free. It was filled with numbered sentences, some expounded on in accompanying paragraphs.

Of course! This is the advice Hana wrote for me while I packed. With all of the agitation and the blur of phone calls to annoyed professors, he had forgotten about Hana's promise. Apparently, she had slipped her work into his papers while he was occupied.

He did his best to make himself comfortable, leaning back into the seat's cushions and trying to relax tense muscles. Then he breathed in deeply and began to read:

The Distant Man's Guide to Ladies

by Hana Livrey

1.) Don't keep her guessing. Let her know how you feel.

She shouldn't ever have to wonder if you care about her. Saying so is a start, but you'd better back it up. If you can't get the words out, you can get... physical ;) Some people like presents or dates, or just support. Find something that works for you and Amy and keep doing it. This isn't a one time thing. You don't get a trophy that says, "I told my girlfriend how I feel and now she knows forever." Nope. Wrong. Keep doing the thing.

2.) For your convenience, here are some common ways to show a girl that she matters to you:

Introduce her to your parents and friends, ask to meet her family and friends (and BE GRACIOUS to them, Izzy), show her off, go to her performances, ask her about how her performance prep is going, take her on dates, give her treats and surprises (they don't have to be big), ask her about her day, cuddle, do more than cuddle, do a lot more than cuddle, etc.

3.) Choose to love her, or leave her now.

I don't know what's going on in your brain, but sometimes it seems like you want to back the hell away from your relationship with Amy, and with me, and with your friends. Trust me, the whole in-and-out thing can rip a girl up inside. I don't want to see you waffling over whether or not you're committed to your relationship with Amy. I will kick your scrawny ass if you say you're with her and then ignore her.

I know where you live.

4.) Figure out her insecurities and do what you can to get rid of them. Or at least be careful not to poke them.

5.) Be present.

Look, you have a life. I'm not saying you should put her first always. But you need to be giving of yourself and be available to her.

6.) Tell her stuff, you ass!

"Have I mentioned that I'm adopted, Amy? And that I'm tutoring Hana at my house, where you've totally been before because I invited you? Yes? Great! I'm so glad we communicate this vital information to avoid horrible misunderstandings involving our friends."

7.) Don't be afraid.

Izzy flipped the sheet over, searching for more, then lowered it to his lap. He stared at it for a long time, too shocked to read it again or think about its contents.

Did Hana really write this? Parts of it fit her so well that he could hear her screaming the words at him. Others felt unfamiliar, too wise, too apt, too serious. He didn't lack confidence in her mind, but he was too accustomed to her teasing and dramatic antics to reconcile some of this information with his image of her.

What did she say when she told me she would write suggestions for me? Something about having dated a distant boy once and knowing the struggles. He stared out of his window for a long time, wondering what might have happened to Hana.

Eventually, he recalled the problems in store for him and shook his head, pulling himself out of speculation. Hana took the time to prepare useful advice for me. It would be foolish to allow it to go to waste.

Izzy rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, then read the paper over and over. Once he was reasonably assured that the information was assimilated, he applied it to his situation, trying to prepare himself for what was in store.

Although the exercise was reassuring, the nagging voice of experience reminded him that predicting Amy's behavior was a madman's errand. But this will help, or at any rate, it can't hurt.

Izzy seized that reassurance with every neuron under conscious control, fighting to remain calm as the train chugged closer and closer to Amy.

Author's Notes:

For the curious, Dyani is pansexual and approaches sex casually. It's not an emotional interaction for her.

So, this story is back after a year hiatus! Woo! It will update regularly from now on, mixed in with Growing Up with You updates. I am also going back and editing previous chapters. Every time I post a new chapter, I will edit the next old chapter. So I worked on chapter one this time, and next time I'll update chapter two, and so on. I'm just trying to apply a bit of what I've learned in the last 3+ years, although I'm not completely rewriting anything.

I hope you enjoyed this update! Izzy and Amy will finally reunite next chapter. Thanks for reading!