I haven't seen my friends since the hospital. Since the days of making sure I was still alive. And now that I'm alive. Now that they're sure of it, we don't talk so much. We don't talk at all. I guess that's kind of my fault. I haven't picked up the phone. I haven't knocked on their doors. And I haven't let them knock on mine. I haven't even let them find mine. I haven't given them a new number. I haven't sent out new directions.

Spencer and Kyla are the only ones with those numbers. With those directions. They're the only ones who know the details. The details of my new life. My private world.

I thought someone might try. I thought someone might care. I thought someone might want to find me. And I thought I might care when no one tried. When no one cared. When no one found me. But I don't. I don't mind being hidden. I don't mind my new isolated world. I'm safe in here. I'm so safe in these dark private white rooms.

Tonight I'm leaving these rooms though. Tonight I'm taking a risk. I'm making a first step into a new life. I'm letting people into this new world. I'm letting strangers inside here. Surprisingly, I'm not nervous. Surprisingly I'm not anything at all.

Or maybe that's not so surprising.

I'm sitting in Spencers car, relaxed in my tight jeans, tank top, and easy heels. I didn't know what to wear, and frankly, I wasn't going to change even if it didn't fit the bill. That's just who I am. It's who I've always been. Some how it comforts and unnerves me. The way some things never change.

Spencers in a short jean skirt with some vintage T-shirt. The necks been cut to give it that 80's feel. It's cute. It's not what I expected.

Of course a person will never find what they expect when they have no expectations to begin with. And I don't have those. If there's anything I've learned it's that expectations only lead to disappointment. Hope only leads to loss. And I'm not setting myself up for either of those any more.

I watch the cars that pass us. I've never been a passenger person. I've always been the driver. I've always been the one in control. I've always held everything between my strong hands. But those days of controlling are in the past. Those days ended when she took the wheel. When she was in control.

When she held everything between her strong hands. When everything fell straight through them.

I flick my eyes over to Spencers hand on the stick shift. She drives an old Jetta. The kind that are more boxy than round. It's black. It's the opposite of everything I expected her car to be. You know, if I had given it any thought in the first place. I figured her car would match her eyes. Would match her handwriting. I thought it'd be bubbly. Peppy. Pastel and pretty.

But it's not. It's not and I like it.

These seats are worn in. I'm sure this car got her through college. Probably high school too. I wonder if her parents bought it for her. I wonder if it was a graduation gift. Nothing too extravagant, but nothing too shabby for their daughter.

Maybe she worked for it on her own. Maybe she spent two summers in some ice cream parlor earning money. Saving for it. Little by little. Paycheck to paycheck. Making her parents so proud the day she pulled into the drive way, honking it's beaten down horn.

I find myself smiling when I hear her voice.

"You excited? Maybe just a little bit?"

She has both hands on the wheel. Both eyes on the road. Easy smile on her lips.

"Sure."

I lie. She laughs. She knows.

"Well I promise it won't be anything too big. Just a few of us."

"Whatever."

I'm honest. She laughs. I let my eyes creep to the side, watching her so casual. So relaxed. So natural. She's almost always in her element. Almost.

She's only broken once. Only once did she crack just the tiniest bit. For the briefest moment her inner private light shone through. Snow days let their secret fingers pull open a locked door. Pulled it open for a second. A short moment in time. And then they closed that door. I haven't seen them since. They're long gone now, just like the winter that's completely passed us.

"We're here."

I feel the car park and have to look around to make sure we've really arrived. I didn't expect to arrive so soon. I look up to the small house on a nice residential road. I keep my eyes on it as I leave the car and shut the door. Spencer smiles back at me as she leads us up the three small steps to the front door.

I take a deep breath as she opens the door. I take a deep breath thinking of what might be inside. Thinking of what would be worse to find. A large group of unfamiliar faces or a small circle of curious eyes. I don't know which I'd rather.

I exhale when I remember not to care. When I remember not to expect.

The door opens to a warmly lit living room. Music plays softly in the background. A handful of people are sprinkled about. Some are in the kitchen connected to this room. Some are on couches. Some are out on the deck I can see through the kitchen door.

Offhand I'd say there are about fifteen people here. A number that was never enough for me. I've always needed a large crowd. Needed noise. Needed chaos. I needed to feel alive.

Fifteen is middle ground. Fifteen is friendly. Fifteen allows a person to step into the background. Fifteen allows me to fit in.

Suddenly fifteen's enough for me. Suddenly it's never felt better.

A tall and lean guy walks up to us. His hair is a perfect mess. Each wayward strand comes together to form an organized whole. He's wearing deep blue fitted jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. As he gets closer to us, I notice a yacht club emblem sitting on his heart. Sitting there like an absolute oxymoron. Sitting there telling me this shirt was bought at a thrift shop. I just know this guy is not the sailing type.

"Spence!" His voice is smooth. He winds his arms around her and gives her the hug of his life.

"Hey you" Spencer equally coos. He gently places her down, hands remaining on her hips. I begin to wonder if these two have some sort of past. How long they dated. They must have with the easiness between them.

"Oh hey Ant..." she keeps an arm around his tiny torso as she turns, extending her other arm towards me "...this is my friend Ashley."

He shakes my litte hand between both of his, "Hey Ashley, I'm Anthony..." looking straight into my eyes he sincerely continues, "...it's an absolute pleasure meeting you."

I understand their easiness now. I understand it all too well. I understand as Anthony's homosexuality comes into focus. I've always had good gaydar and some things never change.

I feel his hands still safely sitting around mine. He smiles and it makes me smile.

"You too."

"Well what can I get you hot ladies to drink? Wine, beer..." he throws Spencer a crooked look, eyebrows raised "...martini?"

It's in this moment that I realize these two are more than best friends. They share a connection deeper than that. A connection where there's an inside joke for every moment. Where they find each other in a simple drink.

Where secret worlds rest inside martini glasses.

"A beer's fine, asshole."

She playfully punches his shoulder. He grabs his arm in mock pain. They both laugh. I don't join in. I stand there. I'm awkward. I'm uncomfortable.

"And what can I get you Ash?"

He uses my nickname. I feel more uncomfortable. Suddenly everyone's eyes are on me. I can feel them whispering. I can see them cupping hands to ears. I can hear dead girlfriend every where.

I need out of here. I need it now.

"Uh...I'm fine thanks."

I try to hide the flares going off in my eyes. I try to keep my insecurity a secret. I don't want to concern anyone. I don't want to upset Spencer. I don't want to ruin her time. Her party. I don't want to take away another Friday night.

With a tight smile, I quietly, quickly say, "I'm just gonna grab some fresh air."

I don't leave anytime for protesting. I try to leave before there can be concerned looks and questions. I'm fast but not fast enough. I don't miss the fact that Spencer has both. I don't miss her feet ready to follow mine. However I hear Anthony pull her into some conversation. I hear Anthony making her laugh.

I hear Anthony becoming my best friend.

I push myself through a door onto an empty deck. I stand in the middle of it. Hugging my body with my bare arms. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. The breeze blows across my face. Across my slightly exposed stomach.

Reminds me I'm alive. I'm here. I'll be ok.

I am ok.

I shuffle over to the side where a chair sits. My body easily falls down, languidly resting inside it. I'm out of breath. This all feels strangely familiar. I can hear my heart pumping in my throat. I can hear the music's muted thumping inside. I hear murmuring. I hear it overlapping with the past. I feel so many layers falling on me. I feel my body shifting once more.

I close my eyes and see three months, two weeks, and four days ago.

I see her. My eyes close so tightly. I see her for the last time.

We were at our favorite bar. A dive off of Sunset. McGee's. However we always called it Tits McGee. For many obvious reasons, and ones that only meant something to us. Reasons that will forever remain there. Silent and forever inside me.

I had just finished a show. I had just finished my last show. Of course I didn't know that then. I knew so very little then.

The usual group poured through the doors as the hours rolled by. The pitchers were overflowing. The laughter roared. The pool tables cracked and snapped. Tequila shot after tequila shot slid down the bar. Sid right towards us. Shawn tipped back every last one. She always did. Tequila was never my friend. She made sure I had plenty red headed sluts. Those I loved and she knew it.

I enrolled myself in an endless game of quarters with Chester behind the bar. He was my favorite. He always had an old t-shirt on. His gray chest hair always peeked through his gold cross.

His quarters always went in.

I remember how many times she left me that night. I remember how many bathroom trips were made. The ones that always included a partner crime. The ones that were becoming too regular. Too routine.

I remember pretending not too notice. I remember pretending not to care. I slammed my quarters. I drank my red headed sluts. I sang drunkenly to my jukebox selections.

I pretended too much. I sang too loud. My quarter missed too many times. I made too many mistakes. I made the biggest mistake of my life. Over. Over. And over again.

The screen door closes like a clap of thunder.

"Hey there..."

I jump at the voice. I find that crazy beautiful face joining me on my deck. A cigarette already fitted between his lips.

"...I thought you might want a beer to go with your fresh air."

He hands me a dark bottle to match his eyes. One of them is winking at me. I gladly accept it. I finally get a chance to get a good look at him. A chance to see that Anthony is one of the best looking guys I've ever seen. Spencer mentioned he was a model slash actor out here. I rolled my eyes at the cliché. They're not rolling now though. He is not that cliche. He could actually make it out here. He has something about him. Something under his perfectly tanned skin and sandy hair. Something behind his smiling eyes and friendly lips.

I take a long sip, hearing a soft pop when the bottle leaves my lips as I hiccup a "Thanks."

He holds his cigarette near his face and leans on the deck railing. He smiles and blows out a very Italian "Fuhgeta bout it."

I find myself chuckling lightly. However it's not enough to pull me from where I just was. It's not enough to loosen my grip on this bottle. I go right for that bottle again. Swallowing gulp after gulp. My shaky hands hold it to my lips. The hands that still live inside a scary dream. The hands that are right inside my own memory.

"So you from this crazy town?"

I nod. I drink. "You're from Ohio right?"

He deeply laughs, "Hell no. Jersey born and raised. Can't you tell?"

I don't know what he's asking. What he means. Must be another inside thing. Must be another olive inside a martini glass. I choose to ignore it.

"So you met Spencer out here then?"

"Oh no, Spencer and I go way back. Our families both summer vacationed in the same place."

A light bulb full of sarcasm and disbelief goes off, "Let me guess..." an exasperated sigh "...Nantucket?"

"All in one, babe." He smiles widely.

"Ok, what is the deal with this place?" My eyes open wider, "Seriously." I look down to my crossed legs. My words were rude. My words were soaked in exclusion. I'm tired of secret worlds. I'm tired of being left out of them.

His arms cross, he looks at me for a moment. He suddenly looks different. He's not the same charming and charismatic person. He seems confused. He almost seems hurt. He's not looking at me like before. He's looking at me like long division.

He's carrying twos and fours, trying to figure me out.

"What do you mean?"

I drink. He carries more numbers. I finish half my beer.

"Well..." my fingers fidget, my hands slide on my wet bottle "...Spencer just talks about it a lot."

I hold my cards. I hold them close to my chest. But he's holding his closer. I don't know if they're even his cards anymore. Suddenly they look a lot like Spencers.

"Well..." He's still smiling. He's still bluffing. "...it means a lot her."

"Yeah." I'm beyond uncomfortable. And so is he. I've made him uncomfortable. I've made him protect something. Finally it hits me. Finally I realize I've made him protect Spencer.

And I have no clue what he's protecting her from.

I don't know anything right now. All I know is I need to finish my beer. I need to get out of here. I feel those eyes from the living room. I see those cupped hands. I hear those dead girlfriend whispers. But it's different this time. I see my own hands. I hear my own voice whispering.

The air is choking me. It's suffocating. It's closed off like the tired air inside the empty bottle now gripped between my slippery fingers.

"She hasn't told you has she."

His tone has softened, he's folded somewhat. He's not asking. And neither am I. I'm running away from this as fast as I can.

"Um." I stand feeling a slight heaviness in my bones "...I'm just gonna grab another beer. You want?"

A long pause. An eternity. He finally lets it go.

"Nah, I'm good..." His eyes are kind again. "Thanks Ash."

I meekly smile, gripping my bottle, and open the door. It claps behind me as I step over to the fridge. I go straight for another beer. I pop off the top and drink. I drink and pretend that deck conversation didn't just happen. I pretend there was no discomfort. There was no need to protect.

I pretend to not care. I look beyond the bottom of my bottle to the warm room. To all the people living a cozy life. I pretend I can't see them. I pretend there's no one inside this room.

My bottle falls to my side and I almost believe it. I'm so close. I'm almost there when it all stops. When her face stares right back into mine. When I see her fading into a corner between two people.

When I see Spencer. When I see her just like me. When I see her pretending.

And almost believing.