Happy 1st of the month everyone! Glad you liked the last chapter, though this one's going to be more of a "brick-layer" chapter. Not uber exciting, but laying some groundwork. All important to the big picture of this ever-developing story. So, thanks for being patient! I'm just as eager as you are at getting to the goodies (and believe me I have TONS up my sleeves :D) But first thing's first.

THANKS FOR READING/REVIEWING! You guys give me warm fuzzies in my belly lol.. I've got nothing but love for you all!!
Straight up, I've got mad love for you letsbefrankimawkward! Just you wait and see what other poems I've got in store for ya! :D dttdemon, I can't believe you stayed up on a school day, crazy! But I'm flattered! SoNFANFOREVER and Momo The Great, you guys rock! I'm so privileged to have you reading since Delta One. lone_fenix, I'll try my best not to disappoint you. You know I won't once it happens, but in the meantime, I'll just torture you slowly :P

And as always, thanks to my lovely beta, River.R, who puts up with my idiocy :)
(PS. Thanks to KairiSD, I just got sucked into orangestripes66's fics... effing brilliant work!)

Enjoy! 7.1.09

Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere or the characters.

I could safely say that if the café were to set fire, I would've gone down in a roaring blaze. My feet weren't going to move from where they were planted. I had chills running down my spine, and my skin was crawling with goosebumps. Yet, the cold night had nothing to do with it.

Ashley's clear as day, walking around as normal as… well, as normal as if she didn't just get hit by a car.

I blinked really hard. Was I seeing things?

No! It happened! I saw it happen. It played over and over in my head, each playback slower than the one before. I swear I could even narrate the story to every detail, draw sketches, and create pie charts. It had to have happened. This isn't the type of stuff someone just makes up in her head… unless, of course, you've gone crazy.

But I'm not crazy!

Well… maybe a little. I don't know!

I heard her muffled voice in the distance, trying to briefly communicate with the driver, but it was apparent he was unconscious. She remained completely calm as she stepped away to do what I couldn't do: call 911.

She paced back and forth, periodically checking on the unconscious driver.

It was mere minutes before sirens wailed from a distance… and she saw it as her cue to leave the scene.

Wait, why is she leaving?! I want her to explain the crazy.

I stood amongst the shadows in my paralysis, watching the paramedics ride in on their fire truck to pry the car open like a can of sardines. A few of them surveyed the street to make sure the electrical damage wasn't going to cause any fire hazards until they could get the electric company to fix the broken streetlight in the morning. They even managed to carefully shovel it off of the street and onto the sidewalk. LAPD came and they set up red flares, directing the few cars that passed by around the accident.

The driver was slowly coming to when the ambulance arrived to transport him to the hospital. He didn't look too good, nor did the rut he got himself into… and the way the cop was talking with the paramedics, it was nothing but your typical misdemeanor DUI.

I don't know if it was the sudden and unexpected event that unfolded before my eyes, or the slew of unanswered questions that flooded my mind, but I didn't even remember the walk back home. I only briefly snapped myself out of Crazyland and into the now when I heard the lock turn as I entered my apartment. My mind was still running on one track as I headed straight for my room and quietly shut the door behind me.

I sat on the floor in the dark, leaning against the side of my bed. For some reason, the darkness blinding my eyes kept me calm. Kept my mind quiet… momentarily.

Who else knew? Am I the only one? Did I just see something I wasn't supposed to?

I hate knowing something I shouldn't…

"Stock's up two percent." Dad announced mundanely from behind the newspaper.

"That's good, I suppose." Mom muttered from across the table, chopping her scrambled eggs in smaller pieces as she kept her eyes peeled on the article she was reading in Modern Healthcare.

Clay poured warm maple syrup onto his French toast, careful not to get his index cards sticky. He was studying them for the Junior High State Spelling Bee. He won our school's 7th and 8th grade Spelling Bee, but this would be the first time he qualified for the state competition after winning the regional one. Next to him sat Glen, who was easily entertained with squirting ketchup smiley faces on his eggs.

"Oops." The nearly empty ketchup bottle splattered a few drops on one of the index cards.

"Glen!" Clay exclaimed, his eyes growing wide like saucers.

"Relax, dorkus!" He read the card quickly before yanking it off the table. "You already know how to spell 'rhinoceros.'"

"Fine! Keep it, jock strap. You couldn't spell rhinoceros if your life depended on it!"

"R-H-I-N-O…" Glen tilted his head, eyes to the ceiling, "S-A-U…" Clay smirked before Glen quickly glanced at the card. "I meant… C-E-R…"

"No cheating!"

"Whatever!" He flung the card at Clay.

Aside from Clay being black and Glen being white, they were seen as the epitome of polar opposites all throughout junior high. Clay was a straight A student. He willingly joined the Academic Decathlon in the 6th grade (you had to be a 7th or 8th grader, but the teachers bent the rules for him), and he'd participated in it ever since. He always got first place at the Science Fair, except for that one time his potato battery caught fire and he got second place. Glen's a B-average student, sometimes losing allowance over a C here and there. He was the most popular kid in the 8th grade, and of course every girl (even girls from my grade) would go gaga over him. He played soccer, football, basketball, and ran track. What he lacked in intellect, he made up in sports.

"Arthur will pick up the kids at 3, shift ends at 7, and I'll see David at 8." My head jerked towards my mother, who acknowledged me from the corner of her eye.

"Mom, who's Da—"

"Spence, finish your French toast." She blurted, her eyes dancing around before landing on her wristwatch. Why's she getting all jumpy? "It's 7:30. We should get going." She stood, dishes in hand.

"I got it, honey. Don't worry about it." Dad folded the newspaper, his eyes twinkling. "Ahh… today has started perfectly." He loved the moments we all shared together. As a family, we made time to sit down and have breakfast every Friday morning... until tradition broke sometime while I was in high school. Dad's eyes gazed at all of us, and I knowingly smiled at him. "See you at 3, sweetie." I hugged him tightly.

"Today is a perfect day, daddy." He kissed my head.

"Bye dad!" Glen and Clay waved before grabbing their belongings.

"Thanks for breakfast, dear!" Mom gave dad a closed-lip kiss. I watched her suspiciously.

"Just wait 'til you see what I've got in store for dinner." His eyes still glistened.

"Aww," she scrunched her face, "unfortunately, I'm working the double shift today. I'm off at 2 in the morning." I glared at her. "Sorry honey! Rain check?"

"Of course." The corner of his lips tilted. He's too understanding sometimes. "Have a good day."

"You too, sweetie." She suddenly turned to me, gripping my wrist tightly and dragging me towards the front door where Glen and Clay were bickering. "Let's go or we'll be late!"

I couldn't believe it. Mom lied. Mom was cheating on dad. What's a twelve-year-old to do with this information?

I swear it was like five seconds later when we got to the front of our school. I snapped out of Crazyland again, and back into reality.

"Bye Clay! I'm sure you won't need it, but good luck on your pre-algebra test." She kissed him on the cheek as Glen was already out of the car, darting towards the popular 8th grade clique he was head of.

"Piece of cake, but thanks mom!" He let himself out. I scooted across the way to the door Glen left open.

"Spence?"

"Yeah mom?" I asked through clenched teeth. She peeked at me through the rearview mirror before turning in her seat.

"Wh-what you heard this morning…"

"You're cheating on dad." I meant for it to come out as a question, but it came out in an abrupt sentence. A sentence that devastated me the second I heard myself say it.

"I wouldn't necessarily say I'm cheating on your fa—"

"I'm not stupid, mom. I'm twelve." She looked down in guilt. "So who's David?"

"Spencer, you're too young to understand."

"What's there to understand?! You're cheating on dad!" It became a solid fact. I started to believe in it whole-heartedly. I wish I didn't, but let's stick to the facts, shall we? "Who's David?" I repeated a little angrier than before.

"Another doctor at the hospital."

"I can't believe you." I shook my head.

"Honey, you don't understand!" She raised her voice in defense. "David's there for me the way your father isn't. He listens to me when I talk… and he understands my life because we are both working in the same field."

"That's no excuse!"

"Spencer, don't you see how much I'm better because of him? I don't come home grumpy and hateful. I don't lash out at any of you anymore. Your father and I have stopped fighting. I've gotten better!" She tried hard to convince me, though she was only fooling herself. "If anything, you should be thanking him!"

"Thanking him?!" I rolled my eyes. "How long has this been happening for?" Just then, the bell rang and everyone started to file into the building.

"We'll talk about this later. Hurry before you're late for class."

"I hate you," I said before turning towards the door. It surprised me how easily it came out, especially since we were taught at a young age that 'hate' was such a powerful word.

"Spencer," she growled, "if you tell your father or brothers, it could tear the family apart. What they don't know won't hurt them. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

"They won't hear it from me." I stood up and draped my backpack over my shoulder before walking away.

My life just fell apart… and only I would know that.

That was my burden to carry.

I hate knowing something I shouldn't… especially because it somehow always comes back to bite me in the ass…

"Turkey's done!" Dad smiled proudly, carrying the platter into the dining room.

"Wonderful!" Mom squealed. Clay and I took our seats across from one another, marveling at the delicious meal brought before us, as Glen lit the tall white candles set on each side of the long table. Everything's symmetric. Perfect even. That's how mom likes it. The mantles, the coffee table, the dining room. Everything was caked in Thanksgiving décor which was overwhelming, considering their Santa Barbara home was tiny, compared to the house we grew up in back in Los Angeles. The brown, red, orange, and yellow hues balanced each other out in that harvesty hue. But I could see past the entire pretense, even if I wasn't a Psych minor. This was all she had. This was all she could control. This was all she could hide behind, masking her shame and depression.

"It came out perfectly tender and juicy!" Dad's eyes lit up as he cut thin slices and placed them neatly on our plates.

"So good to be home." Clay folded his hands.

"Right?" Glen patted his shoulder, "especially with a home-cooked meal like this." We all marveled at the yams, cranberry sauce, dad's signature stuffing, green peas, ham, and mashed potatoes. So good to be home indeed.

Dad sat down and we all held hands in prayer.

"Spencer?" Mom asked wearily. We all bowed our heads.

"Dear Lord, we gather together in your name on this day of thanks. Thank you for all that you've given us with such open arms and generous hands. Thank you for the blessings of health, family, happiness, warmth and love. Thank you for this bountiful meal we are about to eat. And thank you for the success of mom's surgery. May her recovery be a speedy one, and may she no longer have her seizures. Oh merciful Father, we pray that you will grant us many more years of blessings and wonderful moments together as a family. We ask this through Christ our lord…"

"Amen." We said in unison.

"Thank you." Mom mouthed to me and I genuinely smiled.

"Mmm." Clay's eyes rolled back as he savored the taste of such succulent turkey and hastily cut another piece.

"Mmhmm!" Dad chewed with his mouth closed. Glen, on the other hand…

"Hrmm yom! Dad," he nodded along, "this…" his lips smacked together. Turkey already has the reputation of being the dumbest bird. To add insult to injury, it now has the reputation of making my idiot brother slobber like a rabid animal every Thanksgiving.

"Glen, honey…"

"Sorry." He continued to chew quietly before swallowing. "Amazing! You never cease to amaze us every Thanksgiving, dad!"

"Thanks son!"

"You know, I wish Chelsea was here to try your stuffing." Clay chortled. "I couldn't help but brag about it the entire way to the airport."

"When are we finally going to meet this lovely lady?" Mom asked quietly. She had her second lobotomy three months ago, and she started speech therapy two weeks later. She's definitely come a long way, recovering slowly but surely. No seizures so far.

"Yeah, and how long have you guys been dating now?" Glen mumbled.

"Seven months," Clay smiled to himself. "She'll be here for Christmas, but she's in San Francisco celebrating with her family today."

"Tell 'em how you met." My eyes lit up as I mindlessly shuffled my peas around with my fork.

"It's a really cheesy story," his eyes glanced back and forth between mom and dad. "I was looking for the ATM and I got lost walking circles around the art studios on campus. It so happened, Chelsea was showing off her work that night at an exhibition. I asked her where I could find the ATM for some money, and somehow she thought I said Édouard Manet." He bobbled his head at the cheesiness of it. Everyone else couldn't help but grin. "And we just hit it off from there."

"Aww… the best kind of love always starts off cheesy, right honey?" Dad winked at mom. She simply smiled back before turning her attention back to her meal. My eyes narrowed. It stung me to this very day how in love dad was with her, and how she spat it back in his face… on numerous occasions… with different men.

"Unless it's sleazy." I said under my breath, but Glen heard.

"Speaking of sleazy, how's Madison?"

"Hey, be nice! She's my roommate now."

"Just because you guys dormed together last year didn't mean you had to pick her to live with this year." I rolled my eyes at him as he stuffed a chunk of ham into his mouth. Glen's still bitter that she dumped him for Aiden at his senior prom three years ago.

"Madison and I have been friends even before the rise and quick fall of whatever dysfunctional relationship you had with her."

"Is she still dating that tool?" He jeered.

"Yes." I nibbled on my mash. I couldn't argue with him there. Aiden can be a tool sometimes… or most of the time.

"And how's Eddie?" Shit. I was really hoping we weren't gonna go there. I glanced at Clay. He was the only one who knew… at least that's what I thought.

"We're not dating anymore." I responded hesitantly.

"Why? What'd he do?" Glen's voice instantly became defensive, but in a fake way. "If he hurt you, I swear I'm gonna…"

"I dumped him." I looked at him inquisitively. Some how, Glen knew.

"Oh?"

"Really, honey?" Mom pressed on. "Why?" My eyes were now pleading with Clay's.

"Uh, dad, this… stuffing tastes a little different." Everyone's eyes turned to Clay. "Did you add a little something to it?"

"Small change, but glad you noticed! I added oregano." He talked ecstatically with his fork. "Keen sense of taste you got there!" Clay smiled back.

"Clay, tell us more stories of life at NYU." I beckoned with a nod. "Tell 'em about your internship!" I was always in the know because Clay and I would talk at least once a week.

"Oh, yeah!" He put down his knife and fork with a grin spreading across his face, "the political science program offered this opportunity of a lifetime: an internship to work at the White House. I applied and got in! I start in January!"

"Awesome!" Dad was even more ecstatic.

"Congratulations, sweetie!" Mom smiled quaintly. I could tell she was getting tired. She periodically stopped to pat down her hair over the stitches on the side of her head. They were hardly noticeable now that her hair has grown back over that small patch, but she still felt self-conscious.

"Now you can say you're homies with GW." Glen laughed to himself. I shook my head. "So Spence," he put his elbows on the table, shoveling up more mash, "why'd you dump Eddie?" I subtly shook my head at him as his thoughts surrounded the name of Johnny.

"He's… shallow and boring." I shrugged. "Nothing else to say." Mom sat still, observing me careful. Clay's eyes panned back and forth as he sat ready to jump in at any second to mediate.

"So," Glen looked down at his plate, "weird coincidence… Johnny, Eddie's older brother, is on the San Diego State basketball team. He said something about you dumping Eddie for a gir—"

"Can you pass the peas, please?" Clay loudly interrupted. Glen furrowed his eyebrows before passing the dish.

"So what's for dessert?" I folded my hands, looking over at dad. He grunted with excitement, wanting to speak, but was still chewing on his food. Unfortunately, it was another quiet opportunity for someone to throw me under the bus.

"Spencer, are you dating someone new?" My mom's thoughts were suspicious of me.

"Want me to interrupt?" Clay's thoughts swirled in my head. I shook my head at Clay, glared at Glen's puzzling expression (oblivious to having opened a can of worms), and took a deep breath.

"Yes, I am." I put my fork down. I could've lied. But really… what's the point?

"That's good, Spence." Dad said encouragingly. "Who's the lucky guy?"

My breath was getting shallower to the point where I could've sworn air was not passing through my lungs anymore. My brothers watched cautiously, as if they were anticipating a train wreck. And in a sense, so was I.

"Her name is Erica." That's all that managed to slip from my lips. She's my girlfriend. And being so into her, there was nothing I wouldn't have said or done to justify just how happier I was with her than I could ever be with someone as dense as Eddie.

Everyone gawked at me. And I prepared myself for an emotional beating.

"Erica," Mom uttered, "who's a girl." I nodded. "As are you." I nodded again.

"So, you two are…" Glen followed suit, "lesbians."

"It doesn't matter what you call it," I responded sternly as mom softly wiped her mouth with her dinner napkin, "I like her… a lot."

"What has this school turned my daughter into?!" My head snapped to mom's direction.

"It has nothing to do with UCLA, mom!" I had no idea how loud I blurted that out until her eyes widened. "Stop trying to find reasons to hate UCLA just because of what happened with you and your career there."

"Okay," she flung her napkin onto the table, "you wanna make this about you, Spencer? Okay." She leaned closer, her eyes unwavering. "I will not have this in my family, you understand? This… thing with that girl… it ends now!"

"You don't know her. You haven't even met her! She's not a bad—"

"I don't want to know her." She responded with such cold indifference. "I don't want to meet her. I don't care who she is. You are not to see her anymore."

"Paula, please—" Dad tried to defend me.

"You, of all people, should not be telling me how to live my life." My eyes narrowed combatively. "You can't tell me who I can and cannot love! You don't even know the meaning." She understood what I was getting at. She knew it was at the tip of my tongue. It was my warning to her to choose her next words carefully.

"As long as we pay for your college tuition, you will do what we tell you to." She pushed on fearlessly, daring me to resist. "If you continue to see this girl, we'll stop supporting you… and I won't ever want to see you again, understand?" She growled hatefully.

"Fine!" I scoffed. "I'll get financial aid!"

"You barely make enough to pay rent." She laughed in my face. "You wouldn't last more than a month without our help." She sat back, crossing her arms and shaking her head condescendingly. "All this for some… girl!" Her face scrunched bitterly.

"Paula, enough!"

"Don't you see, Arthur?" She pointed at me with such disdain, like a useless and inhumane being. "She'd choose this travesty of a relationship over her education… over her family. She's breaking all of us apart!"

"She is not!" Dad's eyes pierced hers. "You need to stop!"

"Do you really want that on your conscience, Spencer?"

And with that, she triggered me. She brought me back to that day when I was twelve and I knew I would hate her forever. It was my burden to bear for all these years. Every time dad smiled at mom, every time he hugged her, kissed her, every time he did something small to show he loved her, I died a little inside… knowing what I knew. Knowing she didn't deserve any part of the good heart my dad possessed.

When she put that question out there, her voice was as direct as it was eight years ago. It hit me the same way… except I wasn't twelve anymore.

"It was you." Tears welled up in my angry eyes. "You broke this family apart years ago… and you put the burden on my shoulders for knowing. But really… it's your conscience that needs clearing."

"Spence, what are you saying?" Dad looked at the both of us intently as mom and I continued to have a staring battle. I dared her with my eyes. I dared her to tell the truth, but she remained unmoved.

"Mom was unfaithful." I wasn't eager to say it, but the truth had to be heard… even if it broke all of our hearts.

"Paula?" His eyes pleaded for her to deny it, but she simply glanced at him before lowering her eyes to her half empty plate. Dad swallowed hard. "For how long?"

Mom ignored his question and our stares as she got up and headed for the front door. She grabbed her purse and left.

A heap of angry, upset, disappointed, and painful thoughts and questions swarmed my mind… and not a single one of them belonged to me. Though I felt the burden was no longer mine to bear, it was now on all of our shoulders. I started to feel guilty because I started to believe her. I think I tore us apart. I couldn't bear the repercussions of what would become of us now. I ran up to the guest room, shut the door, and sat on the floor against the bed… consumed by the darkness and the stillness that it brought me.

But I wasn't alone for long. I could hear footsteps approaching on the wooden floors. The door creaked open slightly and the hallway light seeped in.

Dad walked in and shut the door softly, never breaking eye contact. He shuffled over and sat next to me, not saying a word. He was hurt, but I knew he had good intentions.

"I'm sorry," was all I could muster up in a whisper.

"Spencer, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." I could hear just how heartbroken he was by the tone of his somber voice, yet he remained encouraging as he draped his arm over my shoulders.

"Why not?" I leaned my head on his shoulder, which caused a few tears to drip from the corners of my eyes. "Hell has officially frozen over when you find out, all on the same night, that your daughter's gay and your wife's been cheating on you."

"Don't think like that," he squeezed my shoulder. "First of all, the one thing you can do to disappoint me the most is to not stay true to who you are." The vibrations from his voice soothed me. "I knew, from the moment I picked you up in my arms the day you were born, that I would love you… no matter what. I would support you no matter what. There's no changing that."

"Even at the cost of our family falling apart?"

"Our family hasn't fallen apart." He paused in contemplation. "I'm sure your mother didn't mean what she said in there. She just reacted that way because this is new to her. She doesn't know what to make of it yet."

"I hate that she just can't accept me the way you do." I shook my head in frustration. "Why doesn't she love me?"

"She does love you… very much. But you have to give her time to understand." He patted my head. "Things will get better, Spence. I promise you."

"What about between you and mom?" I raised my head to look at him. He gulped, feeling the sting of betrayal. I cringed, blinking slowly.

"I won't lie. It was devastating. Probably the worst feeling I've ever experienced," he took another deep breath, "but we made a vow… for better or for worse. We have a lot to sort through, which will take a lot of time and patience, God willing we work together at it. But I think that whatever happens, things will work out somehow."

"You are incredibly strong, dad." I looked at him with admiring eyes, dowsed in warm tears. "And I'm so sorry it came out the way it did."

"Spencer," he turned and grabbed me gently, but firmly by the shoulders, "you're not to blame, you hear me?" I nodded. "I hated the fact that you felt obligated to hold onto something that heavy for so long."

"I know," the tears streamed down, "I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hurt you… or our family." He hugged me as I sniffled into his shoulder. We breathed into each other's comfort.

"The last thing I would ever want is for you to feel unsafe and scared to tell me anything. No matter what you say or do… it won't stop me from loving you." He rubbed my back. "And our family has faced challenges, big and little. But we've always emerged stronger somehow. This family is too good to fall apart. Carlin's are fighters. You know that."

"Of course," I chuckled briefly before pulling back and wiping the damp trails of my tears.

"I love you, Spencer."

"Love you too, dad."

And that was Thanksgiving 2007.

I have all faith in the courage and drive that dad carries. But it's very doubtful that mom would ever love me… or even acknowledge me, her gay daughter who exposed her to the rest of the family.

It gets easier though. I've coped with it, and I blame myself less and less everyday for what happened.

A soft knock on the door draws me back from Memory Lane, and I look up at the door creaked open, the hallway light seeping in.

"Spencer?" Aiden whispered as he leaned in a little further. "I heard the front door. Just wanted to see if you found my…" he noticed me in my seated fetal position, hugging his book to my chest "…book."

"Uh," I shook my head, trying to snap out of my dazed expression, "yeah." I stretched out and jumped up to hand him his econ book. "Sorry!" I smiled sheepishly, knowing it was not one bit convincing.

"Are you… okay?" He raised a brow, hesitantly taking the book from me. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

You could say that.

"I-I'm fine," another attempt at a reassuring smile. "I'm just tired. I've got the early shift today." I sulked, suddenly realizing it was about a quarter to 3.

"You sure everything's fine?" He asked, somewhat concerned. I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to get it off my chest because Ashley's freak accident and her miraculous survival story were not my secret to keep. I've already learned my lesson of letting secrets like that eat me alive. Someone's gonna find out eventually, right?

"Yep," I nodded, placing one hand on the door. He paused in suspicion, but I didn't care to share anymore. For one thing, Aiden would maybe be the 4th person I would tell, after I told Donny, Madison, and Sarah. Not to mention, he has a midterm to cram for, I have sleep to cram for, and I don't feel like getting into hour long discussions about the anomaly that is Ashley. "I need to hit the hay."

"Alright," he looked down at his book before turning away, "well, I owe you one."

"Mmhmm."

"G'night Spencer," he whispered loudly.

I hate knowing something I shouldn't… because it implies that I need to do something about it…

Either keep it to myself… or share it.