We were thirteen the first time Shawn and I got caught drinking. Mrs. Carhart was not happy. Unlike my mother, she cared. She was disappointed. Shawn didn't care of course. She only shrugged her shoulders. She went on with her day. But I cared. I was disappointed. I was nervous.

I was scared. I was scared I wouldn't be allowed to come over anymore.

It was a Thursday night. We didn't have homework, although it wouldn't have mattered even if we did. Nothing mattered then. Life consisted of just us. Me and her between those deep blue bedroom walls. I brought over some Patron my father kept at the house. The only thing he left me. The only physical reminder of him. And it was our key. Our necessity. We needed it. Things were starting to change. Things were too hard. Truth and honesty were becoming the things we feared. Just like monsters in the night. The liquor was the blanket we'd throw over our eyes, as if it could hide us. As if nothing would ever be found. Lines were crossed without realizing it. Shot after shot and the blanket started sliding off. More hands on knees. More resting foreheads. More cheeks kissed. Toeing the line of more, never diving in.

We were still too young to know better. We didn't know what diving really was. We didn't know it was the good part. We didn't know it was everything.

We'd know eventually, but not that night. We were only sinking in that Thursday night.

The breeze blew through the windows. Shawn fidgeted with the music more and more. The air was thick and sticky. Summer was on it's way. I felt her eyes on me. I felt her wanting more. I knew it then. I always knew it. She wanted me. She loved me in a way I didn't even understand yet. And I was starting to love her the same way.

I was starting to throw on more blankets. I needed to hide even more.

I drank more shots than her. She laughed. She giggled. She didn't know I was hiding from her. Or maybe she did. That was thing about Shawn; I never knew. She was good to me. Too good. She hid her pain well. Too well. If she were hurt, I rarely knew it. No matter how many sleepovers we shared. No matter how clearly I saw through her. That was always hidden. That was her monster in the night. That's what she had to pull over her eyes.

A sheet covered her pain.

She clumsily sat down next to me, resting her arms on her knees before her chest. Her blue eyes shone through her messy hair, like they always did. It was longer than normal. She was starting to grow it out. I was starting to notice

She was becoming more beautiful. I noticed. She was becoming sexy. I noticed a lot.

Her head tilted, just watching me. I remember the room shifting. The spins were coming on. The ones where the room plays tag with your eyes. Always moving a step ahead. Always sliding before you can see what's before you.

Everything stopped shifting when I saw her watching. When her blue eyes shone through mine. This time nothing would break it. This time I wouldn't dumbly ask "what". The blankets were so close to falling over the edge. She brought her hands down to the carpet. She weighed her options. I was still naïve enough, or drunk enough, to not know what those options were.

I knew it as soon as I felt her hand on my face. I felt the cool air setting on my exposed skin. I saw the darkness all around me as her thumb circled my cheek. Her eyes were bright and kind. Her skin was soft and warm. She had freckles on her nose. I always knew they were there, but I never truly saw them. Things were so different up close. The face I knew so well was different inches from mine. That face was even more pretty.

And then I wasn't so afraid. The blankets were off and there was nothing to be scared of. There were no monsters in the dark. There was only her. There was only light. Her smile kept me safe. Her hand slid behind my head. Nothing could hurt me here.

Nothing until I felt it. Until the Patron was ready to say hello again, or goodbye, however you wanted to look at it. I don't even remember how I got up and made it to the bathroom, but when I did, everyone knew it. I fumbled through the door and crashed to the ground. Hands grabbing the shower curtain to keep from falling. Hands pulling the whole rod and it's rings with me. Of course the tequila thought mid fall was a good time to make it's appearance.

Everyone under the Carhart roof knew how much I was trying to hide that night. Everyone knew our nightly activities. They were not happy.

If I thought the hangover I had to carry with me through school the next day was bad, I didn't know what was to come that night. Of course I slept over Shawn's. It was Friday night. I was never anywhere else. And something made me feel like I really had to be there for this one. I felt like I needed to be punished. Just like Shawn. I wanted to be there. Knowing I was in trouble almost made me happy.

Someone cared enough to be mad. Someone cared enough to make me better.

We hung out in her room most of the night. We ate dinner in silence. We were ready to shuffle back up the stairs, almost believing there'd be no talk. There'd be no grounding.

"Girls..." we stopped mid step, Shawn glimpsed back at me, hand-in-the-cookie-jar-smile on her face. She whispered a "fuck" between a tiny laugh. "...wanna come down here for a minute?"

I felt my heart drop. My stomach churned. I forgot what it was like to be in trouble. To be disappointed in. I was quickly remembering.

We solemnly walked back into the kitchen and I felt my stomach churn in a different way. The kitchen table had an array of beverages set out. Mrs. Carhart was sitting among them, leaning back in her chair, mischievous smile facing us.

"So you girls like to drink, eh?"

Shawn sighed, "Mom."

I nearly died. Just looking at the bottles and I could taste the vomit. I still didn't understand what was happening.

"Well come on, you're such big drinkers, I thought we could spend some time together." She smiled the whole time.

I looked to Shawn as if we could escape. Shawn rolled her eyes and sat down. I had no other choice but to follow.

"Let's see if you two can hold your own with me..." she comically looked both ways and leaned closer to us "...I used to be a heavy weight in my day, drank your dad under the table every time."

I swallowed. Hard. This wasn't happening.

"So what will it be...I know tequila..." she winked at me "...was a favorite. But I don't know..." her hand went for a clear bottle "...I'm more of a vodka tonic girl myself."

She started pouring and I could smell it's sharp taste. My mouth started watering.

Shawn shrugged again. "Hmmm..." she grabbed a bud light can, cracked it open "...I think I'm feeling more like beer tonight." She smiled at her already smiling mom. I had no clue how Shawn did it. She was hurting just as much as me. I knew she was.

But I didn't understand the pain thing then. I didn't know Shawn's need to always prove herself. To never fail. To never look weak.

"Excellent choice my dear," I could tell Mrs. Carhart was wavering, unsure of her plan, but she kept sifting through the bottles, kept that smile right on her face as she looked at me. "Well Ash...what do you say, rum and Coke..." her eyes lit up when she grabbed something "...gin and tonic??"

That was all I needed. Gin was my kryptonite. Even then, I knew I didn't like it. I knew I never would. And I never have. I wonder if it's because of that night.

I covered my mouth. I felt an upcoming repeat performance from last night. I felt the encore on it's way.

"Oh God..." I closed my eyes "...stop, please, stop."

Shawn's hand sat on my back, Mrs. Carhart laughed.

"You're sure, Ash, I mean I brought out the good stuff just for –"

"I'm never drinking again." I threw my hands out, palms facing her and her arm, eyes still clamped shut "...I swear. I don't even think it's physically possible."

Silence held the air for a few moments. Silence until decisions were made. "Well girls, that's the thing, I know drinking is gonna happen again..." I opened my eyes and saw her doing the table lean, "...believe it or not I was once your age." She smiled and laughed.

We did too.

"But do you think we could put it off for a few years? Perhaps later on in high school?" She crossed her arms "...and please," her voice was so kind "...please don't over do it. When you're old enough to have a tolerance, respect it, ok?"

Her eyes smiled into mine and I nodded. Shawn giggled, I could feel her eyes laughing at me "...yes, mom."

But I kept looking at Mrs. Carhart. I kept looking. This was important. This was a moment of proving myself to someone who cared. This was a moment I wanted to prove myself.

"I will."

And I did. I meant it. She looked at me, no more disappointment. She smiled like a mother. She loved me like one.

"Alright..." She stood "...I'm gonna put away this brewery, " we chuckled, Mrs. Carhart was the best "...and when I'm done I was thinking we'd head over to the video store, what do you guys say?"

I was into movies. I was so into them. Shawn wasn't. Shawn so wasn't. But she squeezed my hand under the table. She smiled at me. She whispered "definitely."

Maybe it was because I couldn't think of drinking. Maybe it was because I needed something to hold onto. Maybe I was just happy. But I didn't want to hide this time. I didn't want any blankets. I squeezed back. I squeezed her hand between both of mine.

Today I'm back at that table. There are bottles everywhere. The one thing I've overdosed myself on. The one thing I can't take is all around me. I need something to hold onto. I need somewhere to hide.

Kyla's held my hand. The whole time. With each breath of ocean air I've inhaled, I've squeezed her harder.

I don't know what I was thinking coming to a tiny island. An island where the ocean is all you breathe. Where sand covers everything; where sand covers the roads you drive on. Even when you leave the beach, it still follows you on the paths that lead you home.

There isn't a cloud in the sky. The sun shines brightly. I can smell flowers mixing in with the salt.

The one thing that's kept me from getting ill. The one thing that makes this a different table is that this beach is not the same. This air is a stranger. I've never breathed this before. It's light. It's fresh. This air feels untouched. There isn't humidity. The middle of June, and there's crispness. There's nothing heavy about what surrounds me.

The ocean smells different. And as we move closer to it, it even sounds different.

This is punishment. No doubt about it. This is a reminder of all I've lost. But in a way, I feel the same way I did at that table. Thirteen years ago. I need this. I want it. For once, I need to pull the blankets away from my face. I need to not hide.

I have to face it all. Even if I'm not ready.

"And here's your room."

I blink and look at the two beds before me. I see a suitcase against the wall. There's perfume and make up on the dresser. Blankets are pulled back on one of the beds.

Spencer stands next to me.

"Sorry I kicked you out Spence..." Anthony's arms wrap around us, pulling me closer to her "...but it's only fair I get the master bedroom, right?"

"Whatever, it's fine" Spencer says in a way that isn't so friendly or humorous. I merely echo her "it's fine".

But it's not. We all know it. We all feel it. Spencer and I are sharing this room. For however long we're both here. We still haven't even hugged. Hell we haven't even said hello. Everything was so heavy when we got off that plane. When we walked into the small airport. When we saw Spencer waiting.

Spencer was not Spencer.

She wasn't here. Her eyes were somewhere else. Her smile was gone. I took one look at her and I knew. I knew where she'd been, where she'd gone, and where she still was.

She was inside snow days. She was right where I've been. Right where I've been trying to leave. Spencer was inside her past, but she wasn't. She was watching her past. She only saw snow days. She saw them through a glass case. In her eyes, I could see the way she's tried to touch them. The way her fingers only bumped against clear walls each time.

I saw Spencer tired. Sad. Alone. And then I saw Anthony hold her. I saw her hold him. Wrapping each other in those safe blankets. The blankets I've learned we all use. Theirs shielded her from us. From Kyla, Aiden and Me. From us shuffling our shoes and checking our bags.

From us avoiding.

But I couldn't avoid. I couldn't stop watching her. My eyes stayed on her for the whole ride to this house. Fixed on the hands held between her and Anthony in the car. The sunglasses covering her eyes. Just another blanket. It distracted me from my own. It distracted me from everything surrounding me and reminding me.

It made me want to pull her glasses off. I wanted to look inside. I wanted be inside.

And now I am. The door just shut. The door pushed me further in this room with Spencer. Just us in our room.

Our room.

The beds are small and close. There are drawings framed on the walls. The white walls that look so much more full than the ones I have at home. These walls, even in their bareness, have been painted on. They've been touched. Love has flushed over them.

I wheel my bag further inside. I drop it by Spencers. My eyes catch two sandy haired boys beyond a glass panel. They look young. They look like Anthony.

"They're his half brothers." I glimpse back at Spencer, she's folding clothes on top of her bed "...this is their room."

"Oh." I face forward and look at the them again, as if I know them. As if I'll see them better now. I'll find more than I did before.

My eyes wander. I'm afraid to turn around, but I do. I finally sit on my bed, the colorful thick quilt sinks beneath my weight. Spencer's still folding.

She's avoiding.

"So..." I fold my hands "...how are you?"

"Ok..." she holds a pair of jeans, body half turned from her bed, my legs are close to hers "...I guess."

The words hang in the air, floating through the waves crashing outside our window. We're close to all I've been running from. So close. I can feel it in the air. I can feel the salt blanket my skin just like I have so many times.

I shake my head. I run and hide.

"Thanks for having us." It's stupid and pointless and I needed something to say.

She laughs shortly but not lightly. It's not a laugh. It's something she's doing to make noise. Just like I've done.

"Well...it's really thanks to Anthony."

"Right. Right." My head nods once and my hands come undone, palms going to rest on my jean covered knees.

Spencer busies herself. I watch. A shower starts out in the hall. The sun displays an earlier time than it feels. The afternoon is turning into evening. The breeze is cool as it flits past the light white drapes.

The breeze picks up. The breeze opens a book on the table between our beds. The breeze blows something to the floor.

Spencer hasn't noticed so I pick it up. I pull the photo from the ground and turn it over. It's an old picture. The corners are rounded. The colors have faded. Tiny veins run across where the top film has lifted.

Proof this picture holds more than it shows inside it. Proof this picture lives and breathes.

There are four people. Four smiling faces on a beach. Everyone with an arm around someone. Mouths opened in laughter. Pant legs rolled up, the bottoms painted darker. There's a black boy and another one that looks just like Spencer. There's a girl who looks like her too. I finally realize this girl is Spencer. Spencer smiling as a little girl.

I look at the picture again. Eyes touching each face more carefully. Tracing Spencer's smile into my memory. This time I do feel like I'm finding more. This time I feel like I know her.

Because this time, I have found more. This time, I've found her.

Spencer's in the middle of the two boys. There's a tall man behind them. His wide arms hold everyone safely between them. I don't have to know who he is to know who he is. He's the father. Their father. His arms are their blankets. He's the one that kisses them goodnight. He's the one that supports them and carries them.

He's what protects them from monsters in the night.

And then they're gone. My hands remain empty before me. Spencer's next to me.

"Oh..." my eyes flick up to her, "...sorry."

She doesn't say anything. She just closes them back inside the book. The book that looks awfully familiar.

"Family?"

I can't help myself. She holds the book in her hands, looking down on it, weighing my question. Weighing how to answer.

Finally she does. She nods but she doesn't look at me. I know she can't. I know it's too heavy. I see her. I see her eyes far away. I see her fingers bumping against glass.

I see her breaking my heart. I see her reminded.

I see her family gone.

I don't say anything. I don't want to expose her anymore. She's cold, she's scared, and I want her to stay safe. I want her to stay hidden.

So I give her a blanket. I timidly reach out. I take her hand. She flinches but doesn't pull away. Our hands remain restless inside each other. Both our eyes look at them. My thumb gently, nervously, brushes over her skin once. Covering her more. Protecting her.

And then she lets me in. She squeezes me back. Only once before she lets me go again. Before she completely covers herself.

"I'm a..." she hugs the book to her chest, she walks into glass walls "...just gonna lay out for a little while."

And I let her go. I have to. She needs to go. But I know she's not gone. We're both inside now. We both share the same blanket.

The door closes and I lie back on my bed. I stare up at the wooden ceiling. I'm suddenly so tired. I'm suddenly so very tired. Maybe it's because things are becoming so clear. Maybe it's because I know about Spencer. Because I know about me.

I know we're both scared. We're both shaking our heads and covering our faces. We're sharing the same blanket. We're both hiding beneath it. And just like every other blanket, we need to take it off. We need to rip it right from each others body.

But that's not quite it. There's something bigger than that. And suddenly that something hits me. I gasp as I realize it.

Spencer and I, we don't need to stop hiding from our past.

A salty tear slides down my salty skin.

We need to let it go.