Close to You - Jaden Michaels

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When looking back on the weeks and months following Adam's final goodbye to Lacey, it was all a blur to him except for the perpetual pain–physical and emotional. After the taxi took her away, he sat down on the porch and stared numbly into thin air for two hours.

The pain had already been there thanks to the stress and the rain, but now it was earth shattering. Every joint throbbed, and it was all he could do just to climb the stairs and collapse into the bed. He had failed to grab any of his meds from his dorm room before fleeing, and their lack was finally catching up to him. He lay in Grandpa Greg's bed, his body on fire, as still as he could until the nausea overtook him. As quickly as he could manage, he grabbed the trash can near the bed to relieve himself, and did so several times over the next twenty-four hours.

This was all made so much worse by thoughts of Lacey. It was as though every single good memory he had was whirring through his brain on repeat, causing anguish that was almost more than he could stand.

It was the next day when Grandpa Greg returned, shocked yet relieved to see Adam in one piece and taking solace in his own home. But it grieved the old man to see how much pain he was in. He offered some of his own stashed away pain pills, dutifully changed the trash bag for a perpetually nauseated Adam, and brought up broth and Jello a couple of times a day. His grandfather also took over communication with his parents, keeping them in the loop of what was happening.

He didn't talk to his grandfather about anything–not what he'd seen on that terrible day the towers collapsed, nor what had transpired between him and Lacey. He just didn't have it in him to converse with anybody.

Finally, the worst of the flare over, Adam went back to school. He'd already missed well over a week, but his professors had been very lenient with student absences and skipped assignments given all that had happened. He was glad to see his dorm room was still in one piece, all of his things just as he'd left them; but it depressed him beyond belief to walk out into the street every day and see the rubble, the firefighters and rescue workers, and chaos still happening all around him. He tried to keep his head down and just walk as quickly as he could to the subway.

The pain in his heart was immense. More than once, he'd considered calling Lacey and telling her he was sorry for his part in the blow-up–that all was okay, forgiven and forgotten. But could he actually go through this again? He had finally begun to let go of the relationship when she'd resurfaced and made him feel truly alive for a few days, convincing him that he was going to get something he cherished more than anything–her–back.

So no. It was over. And it was with great pain that Adam found the folded photograph of the two of them together from years ago in a jeans pocket as he was doing laundry and crumpled it up to throw in the trash. Changing his mind at the last moment, he instead tossed it back in the box he'd retrieved it from on the fateful day he had fled the city. He vowed never to look at it after that. It was like someone had set a prairie fire to his heart, purging it of hope, happiness, and strength.

Only then, utterly spent, would he remind himself of all he had to look forward to in a few months when surely, hopefully, he would regain his footing. After graduation, there would be Savannah's promises.

Adam's Violets teammates did nothing but congratulate him endlessly, as in awe of his accomplishment as he had been when someone before him became a prospect. He attempted to accept all this humbly, just grateful he had finally gotten the chance he'd been waiting for.

As fall semester gave way to spring, he busied himself with the details of launching his new life in Georgia, finding a simple but nice place to live for the time he would spend at home between games. Adam knew that often new recruits without families nearby would get a place together for moral support if nothing else, but he had never had a roommate before and wouldn't start now if he could help it.

During those hard months, the last two semesters of college, Adam drank. Never a partier, he preferred to drink alone and watch movies when he wasn't doing homework or in class.

Or having sex.

Lacey's comment to him hadn't been forgotten. He was, apparently, a "red-blooded male" who was expected to get what he wanted when he wanted it. And truthfully? A good romp might undo all the memories of having been with her. What did all that matter, now, anyway?

Leah, a girl from class, was his first after Lacey, and after it happened, he made his way back to his room with a rock the size of Gibraltar in his gut.

It was just sex. You've done it before. It's all about physical release.

So he decided to sleep with whomever wanted to sleep with him. It hadn't been hard to find girls in every corner, making themselves available for whatever he was down for.

However, he had rules. No sleeping over, no kissing and cuddling, and he wasn't doing it with anyone more than twice. He found out the hard way that most of the girls he hooked up with were expecting far more from him than just sex.

He'd broken that last rule with Tessa, simply because she always seemed to be there when he was feeling vulnerable enough for a hookup. She first made her move one evening after a hockey game. Fresh from the shower, he left the locker room and saw her standing there waiting on him. She gave him a coy smile, and asked to go get coffee. Instead, they ended up in his bedroom, as she had a roommate.

As Tessa made herself so blatantly available, and he was so desperate to blot out the memories of his intimate moments with Lacey, Adam took the bait. He made it clear this was just about sex, no strings attached. She readily agreed, so he began hooking up with her casually, with the occasional other girl in between. He really couldn't care less who they were, and barely remembered their names. Truthfully, what did he even see in Tessa to make him want to spend any time whatsoever with her?

She's not Lacey, was all his mind could come up with. She was frankly the very opposite, and that's what he was looking for right now. It was the same story with all of them, actually.

First, her attachment was subtle: "Look into my eyes while we're making love," she whispered to him once. The remark took him by surprise and nearly caused him to have to stop what he was doing.

"I can't," was all he managed to whisper back.

Afterward, he felt the need to say, as kindly as possible since he didn't want to purposefully hurt her, "You do remember this isn't 'making love,' right? I mean it's just a thing."

Of course she always agreed, always apologized for "being silly" and making remarks like that. But what turned out to be a problem was the fact that she had begun texting…a thing Adam didn't do very often, and always felt unsettled to see words popping up on his phone from this girl he barely knew–nor wanted to know personally. Chit-chat, usually. "How was your exam?" "Can you believe the stuff they fed us in the dining hall today?" "What are your plans for the weekend?"

The final straw came one night when he'd expected she was going to leave his dorm room after their liaison as she always did. Only he fell asleep more quickly than usual, having endured a rough hockey practice earlier in the day, and he awoke sometime in the middle of the night, hearing his bathroom drawers opening and closing. As soon as he could shake off sleep, he got up and made his way there, half-wondering for a second if she knew he had pain pills and was planning to nick them. Which would not go well for her, as he was having to take them like crazy these days.

"Tessa…" he stopped in the doorway immediately, taken aback by what she was doing.

When Adam had moved back into his dorm room last August, he had, out of habit and because he couldn't bear not to, left some space in one of his drawers for a couple of Lacey's things: a scrunchie, a tube of lipgloss, some of her moisturizer, and a tube of blue nail polish he'd never liked, and had enjoyed teasing her about.

Lacey giggled after he snatched the closed tube out of her hand and crammed it into his pocket.

"No way. Why don't you wear red on your toes like you do on your fingers? It's hot." He kissed her head.

"You keep that one, I'll just buy another one. Or hey, better yet? Now that you have the polish, you have to paint them." She stuck her foot up toward his face.

He backed up, laughing. "Only if you want to be wearing blue nail polish up to your ankles. I can't paint nails

"Try it," she smirked. "I wanna see how you do"

Finally he sat down, and…taking almost a whole hour for how meticulously he made his strokes, afraid she'd move suddenly, got the job done.

"Yay, you did it!" She beamed. "Now let me paint yours."

"Ha!" He'd wrested away from her as she tried to grab his foot.

Tessa held the tube now, turning it over and over in her hand. "Was this Lacey's? You mean you still have it?"

Adam crossed the room quickly and took the tube from her hand, trying not to be rough. "All right Tessa, time to go. You can't just go through my drawers like this."

"You still love her, don't you?" She came close to him and traced a finger over his eyebrow. The contact rankled him.

This girl had never been very considerate, and was more than a little intrusive–skills that would definitely suit her as a reporter–but not as any long-term hook-up buddy of his.

He took a step back. "It doesn't matter. I need you to go. And just so you know, I think this has run its course."

Tessa stared at him, devastation written across her face. "Wh-what?"

"You're a great girl, but I can't trust you; to leave when you know that's our agreement, to not go through my drawers…to take out Lacey's things…"

Adam reached down and took all of the sentimental items out of the drawer, setting them in the corner of the counter, feeling for some reason like this made them safe.

"You and her are done, Adam. You said so yourself. Why does this have to be a problem?" Tessa asked in an almost-pleading voice. "Don't you want a girl with substance, ambition? I mean she was nothing but a Barbie doll, arm candy for you."

Adam's breath quickened and he knew his eyes flashed. But he took a deep breath to try to level out his emotions long enough to deal with this. He had felt like a jackass a minute ago, not happy about breaking Tessa's heart, but now he was just angry and he wanted her gone. How dare he say those things about a woman he'd loved, whom she knew nothing about?

"Tessa, it's not really anyone's business about me and Lacey. And I'm asking you. Please leave. You'll find who you're looking for one day, but it's not me."

Eyes shining with anger which gave Adam a keen sense of "This isn't over yet", she turned and stomped out of the bathroom, grabbing her bag and slamming his door on her way out so hard he was sure it woke up half the building.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Adam went to pick up Lacey's things to throw them in the trash can. He made it halfway there before turning around and putting them back in the drawer. He'd deal with all this later–maybe have his mom return them.

He noticed, as he held the items, that the scrunchie still carried the smell of her hair and her Herbal Essence shampoo. Just for tonight he allowed himself to slip the cranberry colored silk over his wrist, and went back to bed, his arm on the pillow, positioned where he could fall asleep with it right next to his face.

The next morning he slid it off, tossed it in the drawer, and headed off to class with a heavy heart.

He didn't allow another girl into his room for a long time after.

As for AOL, he logged off and never went back on.

He took a shovel and dug as deep of a hole as he could, dumping all of his wonderful memories and fathomless love into it. He would never allow himself to hurt that badly ever again.

His brother visited during spring break, which Adam opted to spend at school instead of going home. He didn't think he could stand his mother hovering and fretting over him. Instead, he ended up with Travis, who had pretty much just invited himself. He'd promised Adam they were going to have a "Bro's Week," complete with videogames, basketball on TV (which Adam could care less about), and "good movies, not your usual ancient crap."

It was surprisingly a good time up until Travis discovered the boxes of condoms under Adam's sink.

"Hey," he came in and woke Adam up one morning long before he was ready to move. "I'm glad you wrap it before you tap it now, but wanna slow down? How many of these suckers do you go through?"

Adam felt irritated and rolled away from Travis, who stood over his bed. "I don't know, maybe three a week or something? Trust me, you talk to other guys on campus and ask how many they go through. I'm hardly a manwhore."

"Are there like, just a couple girls you get with?"

"No," he mumbled sleepily. "I mix it up. No strings attached."

"Uh, you came from having sex with one girl you were head over heels for and landed straight into banging the whole school. It's an issue, Dude. And by the way, don't think I haven't noticed all the liquor bottles lying around here."

"Travis, dammit," he rolled back to face his brother, wide awake now. "I thought you were coming here to just kick it, not judge everything I do. It's none of your business who I have sex with and what I drink. Let's get that straight, all right?"

Travis held his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay. Go ahead and throw hand grenades into your life. Not stopping you."

Only Travis's words did stick, and with graduation only two months away, Adam realized he had to get a handle on himself before the fall. There couldn't be a hint of scandal in his life when he began fully living the NHL. So for the next little while, Adam slowed down on the drinking and the random hookups, and tried to focus on finishing his degree so he could move onto what was important–his hockey career.

"This is a big deal for you, Honey," his mom told him that summer as he prepared to leave town for good. "But don't forget who you are and where you come from. All right?"

Adam smiled at her, his hippie mother. The one who had spread giant rolls of paper over the floor for him and Travis to fingerpaint on, only laughing when they would end up with more paint on them than on the paper. His dad helped him keep his head, but his mom helped him keep his heart. And he would need to stay grounded. If for no one else, for her.

"I promise. I've got this, Mom."

/*/*/*/

Lacey lay staring at the ceiling in a haze, the air around her thick and syrupy.

This is where it's at. Bye bye, anxiety.

She reached over lazily and took Jeff's hand, toying with each of his fingers. Taking another toke off the blunt, she giggled. "Why am I in school again? I just want to deliver pizzas."

Jeff broke out into a hardy laugh. "Pizzas…yeah…"

Even in her altered state, she could tell he was more stoned than she was.

Marijuana. She'd never tried it, despite all her early high school partying years. But over the last few months, it was everything. Going to parties with Jeff required a little extra pump. And this gave it to her.

"Trust me, I'm not gonna let you get too blitzed. And you're totally not driving, all right?" He'd lit it up for her after she insisted one night that she wanted to try it.

The sleep she dozed in and out of was delicious, thoughtless. Which was what she needed more than anything.

After leaving Albany, Lacey did nothing but cry for weeks. It felt as though a bulldozer had run over her chest, and her first semester grades nearly tanked.

"I can talk to him about this. We can just start over and leave everything behind us. Can't we?" She'd desperately pleaded for Kristy to agree with her.

"Lacey, I just don't know. It sounds like what he said was pretty final. And if you push him, it may make it worse," her sensible best friend cautioned.

Easy for her to say, Lacey thought. Sure enough, Kristy and Davy's friendship had blossomed into something bigger, and the two of them were happier than she'd ever seen them. They spent almost all their free time together in those early months, and watching them was truly a treat–on one hand. On the other, it made Lacey ache to her very bones.

When she'd come back home, she'd wanted nothing more than to talk to her mother, which she figured would surely be a mistake. But she craved a mother's comfort, as much as she knew talking to Stuart might go a little better.

So on her first night home, she sat in her mom's room and sobbed until she had hiccups, spilling every last detail to her mother about the promising beginning to her reunion with Adam, all the way through to sleeping with him…and finally, what the two of them had said to one another. And Adam's refusal to reconsider.

Surprisingly, her mom listened stoically without speaking all the way through to the end. And when she spoke, Lacey felt she was bearing witness to a true miracle.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Lacey sniffled, looking up at her. "You're not mad at me?"

"Well, yeah I'm mad," her mom gave a half smile. "You did something really dumb. You broke that poor boy's heart, but he broke yours, too. You both made some big mistakes, but it's all part of being young. The main thing is, you've got to let this go and move on. And it's probably going to take a little while, but go in that direction. I mean, you need to start thinking about where you're going with that degree of yours next year. You've got two more semesters before you graduate, and let me tell you, no freeloading in this house. You live here, you're gonna work."

Lacey gave a wobbly smile, though it suddenly crossed her mind that she didn't want to live here after graduation. She would be a working professional then, and she wanted her own place. She needed her own place.

And she was going to find her direction.

After partying, of course.

Jeff had begun to invite her to parties that his friends threw, having kindly not asked questions when she got home from New York and she went back to school, but knowing she was distraught about something. He put together that she'd had a friend that nearly died in the attacks that happened in September, but otherwise, he didn't seem to want to bother her about it. And she was relieved.

At Christmas, Lacey dyed her hair blonde again. She wasn't exactly sure why she did it, other than that she wanted a change. And she had liked her hair blonde back in high school.

She didn't necessarily give Jeff the go-ahead to come onto her as hard as he did, but she didn't stop him, either. And by Valentine's Day, they were dating.

Jeff's eyes were continually alight with a mischievous gleam, but his crooked smile was hands-down the most dashing thing about him. He could generally calm her down in the most nerve-wracking of situations simply by grinning at her. He wasn't very good at talking her through her panic attacks, because she could tell he didn't understand them. At first his flippant way of dealing with her heavy feelings felt almost dismissive to Lacey, but she came to understand that this was just Jeff's way of trying to bring her out of it–by reminding her life was moving on, everything was fine, and she would be okay, too. Most of all, she was touched by the fact that he was devoted to making her happy.

In a way, the union broke her heart, because Jeff wasn't Adam, and the thought of all she and Adam should have had in front of them crushed her. But maybe this was better. Passion like that was a once in a lifetime thing. The feelings she had for Jeff were calm, comfortable, and decidedly more adult. So she felt satisfied–as long as she didn't think about Adam. He had made it pretty easy, given the fact that he had so carelessly pushed her away. Had it really been that simple for him to just walk? How selfish could he be? How unforgiving?

So she did all she could to move on. Jeff, smoking lots of pot, going to parties and making new friends–it seemed the perfect solution. Until it wasn't.

She had begun smoking at home, when no one was around. She bought can after can of air freshener and smoked with open windows so the rank odor of pot wouldn't be detected by her parents or sisters. Her mom, however, seemed to suspect something by small remarks she would make occasionally about "the smell in this house" and "what did you get up to at that party tonight, Lacey?" It rankled her to no end, as she was grown enough to make her own decisions.

One night when she had nowhere else to be, she put chicken in the oven to bake, feeling cheerful about surprising everyone with dinner. After setting the oven to 375, she went for a toke by the open window before lying down on the couch.

The next thing she knew, the smoke alarm was blaring in her ears and smoke spilled from the kitchen, making her cough.

Oh God.

Lacey was so high she could hardly feel her legs underneath her as she made her way to the kitchen, barely able to even see the oven through the smoke. She instinctively opened it and tried to grab the hot pan, chicken breasts ablaze, when she screamed and jumped back.

Oven mitts, her addled brain tried to remind her.

Digging through drawers, she found them and dragged the burning chicken out of the oven, throwing the pan into the sink just as the firemen got there…followed by Stuart.

"Wha' the bloody 'ell! Lacey, are ye a'right, Love?!" Stuart took her by the shoulders as she exited the house in her pjs under order of the firemen.

"I'm-I'm okay. Left chicken in the oven too long," she tiredly replied, still unable to emerge from the fog when she most needed to. He gazed into her eyes for a moment. "Yer eyes, they're sore dilated. Wha' ye been doin', eh? Donna try t'lie t'me, either."

The smoke damage to the kitchen and living room was extensive and warranted a call to, of all people, Phil Banks–"Sorry, Ma'am, either you notify him or we have to. He owns this property," the fireman had informed her. There had been no choice but to book a couple of rooms at the local Holiday Inn for her parents and sisters. She'd had to use her dad's money since she was taking the semester off at the Cat's Cradle due to a busy class schedule.

"What's wrong with you?!" Her mom was as angry as a woman possessed, standing out on the lawn with Lacey just before Phil was to arrive at the house. "You're as high as a kite."

Lacey opened her mouth to retort, but her mom cut her off.

"Nope, don't even try. You think I don't know what pot smells like? Remember I lived on a blasted commune for a year. It's what we breathed. Oh, and I knew… that Glade Fresh Linen can only cover so much. I tried to ignore it and chalk it up to you being a college kid and experimenting, but this takes the damn cake. If you're going to act like this, take that money of yours and find your own place."

Stuart stood silently by, and Lacey looked to him for help. But he wouldn't look at her, and for the first time ever, she felt his anger.

"Oh I mean it," her mom added. "You've got til graduation–that's two months–and you're out. You should have a job by then anyway. I've got your sisters to think about here."

Lacey stood there, shocked, until she forced herself to speak. "Mom, I…I know. I'll go. But please, can you be the one to talk to Phil? I can go ahead and leave with the girls and Stuart–"

"Lacey," her mom interrupted, sighing. "You know I'd normally try to save your ass in something like this, especially with the Bankses. But you're twenty-two years old. Don't you think once he finds out you were responsible for this, he's going to wonder why I'm out here talking to him instead of you? Let's just hope he doesn't realize you're high."

"But Mom, why does he need to know about the pot? It was a mistake, okay?! Give me a break!" Lacey all but shouted back. "How much trouble did I ever get in in high school? I've sat back, been good, and made no big misstep until now. Can you not have even just an ounce of grace for anybody?!"

But her mom's expression was undaunted. "I'm not saying to mention the pot. Please don't, in fact. It looks bad on me and Stuart for not stopping this in our own house. But you're to tell him you were the one who fell asleep with food in the oven. It's taking responsibility, Lacey."

Tears streamed down Lacey's face as she watched her parents and bewildered sisters pull out of the driveway, going to check in at the hotel she had reserved over the phone a few minutes earlier. The pot was definitely wearing off, as evidenced by the cold, hard reality she was feeling upon her just then.

Sure, pot took all the junk away for a little while, but it was still there waiting for you afterward. And meanwhile, you could end up seriously screwing up. Substances were clearly not the answer.

…As she'd worked so hard to convince Adam of long ago.

But for now, her mom was right–she had to take responsibility for what had happened inside the nice home Phil had so graciously upgraded her family to at no additional cost three years ago.

Straightening her spine and fending off the panic that was trying to plant itself on her chest like a living, growing thing, Lacey watched as Phil Banks pulled up in his brand new Lexus SUV and stepped out wearing his trenchcoat, brow furrowed. He looked first at the house, then to her, and then to the fire captain who came over to speak with him. Lacey patiently waited her turn.

Phil slowly approached her as the firemen were loading up to leave. "He told me the daughter left something in the oven and fell asleep. Was that one of your sisters?"

Lacey took a deep breath. "No. That was me."

He stared at her a moment, then looked back at the house again, as if it could explain. "I'm sorry, did you go lie down? Did you go sit in the living room and just fall asleep? Fill me in a little, Lacey."

His manner and no-nonsense way of speaking, still so very familiar to her from all those family parties, vacations, and relaxing evenings at Adam's house, shot pangs through Lacey's heart. But that wasn't what this was about. This was business, and she had to be sure her parents and sisters weren't made to suffer for her poor choices.

Part of Lacey felt a little comfort at the thought of being honest and just blurting it out: "I was smoking pot in the living room, Sir, and I fell asleep because I got really high."

But just as her mom had cautioned, that could cause backlash for her and Stuart. So instead she just told him the next-nearest truth.

"I-I had put chicken in the oven and then sat down on the couch to rest my eyes. I didn't mean to fall asleep, but I should have realized it could happen."

Phil stared at her in disbelief for a moment. "That was some nap, wasn't it? The fireman told me the kitchen has received extensive smoke damage, and that there's almost as much in the living room. Tell me, how did you sleep through all that?"

Lacey chewed on her lip a moment, trying to come up with a good answer, but before she could, Phil sighed and spoke again.

"All right, well you realize we're going to have to pay people to come fumigate the house and clean up all the smoke stains. If they won't come out, we'll have to then pay painters. Lacey, that's going to be well over three thousand dollars all together. Now tell me why I shouldn't hold you responsible to pay every bit of that."

She nodded quickly. "You should. And I will. I'll use my trust. Just please don't make my mom and Stuart pay. They wouldn't be able to, and besides, it's not their fault. They're taking this seriously, too, and my mom…has already given me a pretty big consequence. Nothing like this will ever, ever happen again. You know we've been really good tenants for almost twenty years," Lacey rattled on. "I mean, I know a long time ago they were late on rent alot, but we've always taken good care of both your properties. And it does mean something to them that you were gracious enough to give us a bigger place because of Stuart's prosthetic."

Lacey was talking a mile a minute and didn't even realize it until Phil finally held up his hand. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I'm not going to take your trust money. But after you get a regular paying job this summer, I expect you to begin paying me back in installments. We'll draw up a contract when we get to that point. Until then, because you're very right about your parents having always been good tenants, I will temporarily rehome them until we can get the mess cleaned up. But it might take a few weeks. I'll still ask them for rent the same as I always have. Do we have an understanding?"

Nodding, Lacey found herself with one more request. "Ph–Mr. Banks, I just ask one other thing, and I know I'm not in a position to ask any more favors of you. But please, if you could keep this to yourself..."

Phil apparently understood what she was asking, and hesitated before nodding. "I don't see why Adam or Yvette or anyone else needs to know the specifics of this. It's a rental property, and people have accidents, as foolish as this one was. Now I'm going to go in and have a look around so I can explain the damages beforehand to the adjuster. You can go ahead to join your family, wherever it is they've gone for the night."

Lacey took a deep breath, feeling relieved and grateful that her penalty for this wasn't far worse.

Later that night, having decided she wasn't in the mood to share a room with anyone in her family, Lacey wordlessly paid for a third room–realizing she'd spent an awful lot of her trust money in the last year–and slept there by herself. It wasn't until the next morning that she went to inform her mom and Stuart of Phil's verdict.

"Fair 'nough," Stuart nodded.

Having told them all they needed to know, Lacey turned to go get ready for school, her clothes still smelling of smoke from last night's fiasco, when her mom stopped her.

"I just want to know what's happened to you."

In no mood to get another tongue-lashing from her mother, Lacey turned around quickly. "Mom, I need to go. Yes, I'll pay Phil back and yes, I'll move out this summer. Okay?"

But before she could reach the door, Mom stood up. "I know it was an accident and that you're sorry, and I know you're still hurting because of Adam. But Lacey, it's time to let all that go and get your head back in the game. This is real life, and you have to get ready for it. Getting high all the time and going to parties is not going to do anything for you but keep you lost. And nobody can depend on someone like that to help them with their own problems. That's what you want to do as a social worker, right?"

Lacey cast her eyes downward, wanting so much to be angry at her mother, but knowing there was no use in denying the truth of what she was saying.

"Then go out there and do it," her mom continued. "I wish I'd gone to school too, but I didn't. Instead, I married your dad, and we know how that turned out for all of us. I have a lot more hope for you. Don't prove us wrong."

Stuart sat quietly, and Lacey knew he must still be disappointed in her. Stuart was only this quiet when he was mad or worried. He was neither of those very often or for very long. Maybe she could soon turn this around and restore everyone's faith in her again.

She didn't even bother talking to her sisters, despite knowing she really needed to. They obviously knew what she had done, and were good enough not to say anything to her about it. But the gulf between herself and them that had started in the twins' early teens seemed to have grown, and the fact was, she wasn't even sure how to begin a deep conversation with them anymore. Their maturity seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds each year when she almost felt like hers was remaining the same.

Well, it was time to change all that.

First of all, she told Jeff the partying had to stop, and so did the pot. She was pleasantly surprised to find that he supported her, and said if it would help her, he'd stop it, too. That caused her to warm up to him further, and they continued to grow close.

Lacey tried not to think about what Adam was up to at NYU, about to graduate himself. He would be going to Savannah this summer to begin gearing up for his first hockey season as a pro. How long and how far would he make it?

And did he have another girlfriend? Maybe he did, and one he felt the same way about as she did Jeff. After all, he had been the first one during their fight who relegated their love to some unimportant thing that comes and goes in the lives of teenagers.

She resented him terribly for that. But then, all she had to do was remember all they'd shared and the expression in his eyes when he'd once looked into hers to nearly double her over with sorrow. So she just simply tried harder not to think about him or those happy times. That was the only thing she could do to make herself forget all of it and focus on the newness life was bringing to her.

"Kristy, you can have this." She finally brought herself to take the snowglobe Adam had bought her the Christmas before they'd officially begun dating to her friend's house one afternoon. "I know you've always liked it. And I really don't want it anymore."

Kristy gave her a knowing look and took it from her hands. "How about we say I'm holding it for you? Because one day you may wish you had it again."

"Doubtful," Lacey replied, trying to put on a brave smile. "But either way, thank you for taking it."

When it was time for her sisters to go to Junior Prom–a weirdly sad moment–Lacey took out the emerald jeweled comb from Adam for Halen, whose dress was the same deep green.

"But Adam gave that to you!" Halen argued, eyes widening as Lacey slid it in place.

"He did," Lacey recalled the Spring Dance at NYU years ago when they'd had to go shopping for a dress together. "And I can't help but think he'd want you to wear it now. He always was pretty fond of you guys."

Halen gazed at her reflection. The girl might have grown more full-figured over time, but she was still beautiful. Lacey opted to leave her sister's abundance of blonde waves intact, just using mousse to better define them. The one adornment used was the comb. Halen's dress was a pretty classic style, though it felt odd to Lacey to witness the various ways in which fashion had both changed and stayed the same since she'd gone to Junior Prom five years prior."

"It's the beginning of getting old, Hon." Her mom gave her a knowing look.

Mom was the one helping Ariel. This twin had picked a surprisingly elegant, cranberry colored dress and wore her own hair in a simple French twist.

Her parents had generally tried not to allow Lacey to use her trust money on them, but this year she had asked to be able to, as an early Mother and Father's Day gift. She knew it would really lay quite a financial burden on them to send not one but two daughters to prom; and that was even with them trying to save money by doing hair themselves, as her mom had done when she had gone to prom. And so Lacey had taken the twins shopping one day in the spring to allow them to pick out their prom dresses, which she paid for herself.

Lacey told Halen she could keep the comb if she wanted it. However, the next morning, she rolled over to see it lying on her dresser, returned in excellent condition.

"Adam might have been okay with me wearing it, but I think he would have wanted you to keep it," Halen later remarked, smiling kindly.

And so it was that the comb, along with all the other gifts she'd received from Adam over the years, was relegated to a box in which she laid each item down delicately, resting upon the bed that his scarf provided. It was with not a few tears that she sealed it with tape and put it up in her closet.

They were supposed to have had forever together. But now, part of them was closed up and hidden out from sight. And the rest–the memories–Lacey only wished she could store for a time when she was stronger and could take them out to examine them without bucketfuls of tears.

The one thing Lacey would not part with in any way, however, was the high school ring he'd shyly presented her with that one evening over pizza, sitting on his grandpa's bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. That was going to stay in her jewelry box indefinitely.

The question of what Adam had been doing and how he'd been handling things was answered in the form of an AOL conversation that she'd assumed would be civilized. Adam had long logged off the service, or else opened a new account as someone she wouldn't be able to find. Lacey wouldn't be on it now, either, had it not been for classmates from school who often wanted to trade class or project notes. Jeff was on there too, and he sporadically opted to chat with her during late nights spent studying. But she'd made what she considered to be a smart decision and finally deleted all of hers and Adam's chat history, which in the early days after the breakup she'd spent sleepless nights reading over and over again.

One night, up late writing a paper about the various motivational interviewing tips she had learned from her internship at a St. Paul children's home, a window popped up onto the screen.

It was Tessa.

Lacey had to think to remember who this was, and finally recalled the talkative reporter from the NYU newspaper. After having helped Lacey get to the hospital to be with Adam following his collapse during his game, she'd been so kind as to reach out to her to see if she wanted a copy of Adam's interview for the school newspaper sent to her by mail. Lacey had once cherished the article which had showcased Adam's focused but kind personality well, accompanied by a gorgeous picture of him in which he'd smiled modestly for the camera. It was still at the bottom of her desk drawer somewhere…

Unsure why the girl was contacting her now, Lacey tried to be polite and exchange initial pleasantries with her. She'd come to learn Tessa was soon graduating with her coveted degree in journalism, and had already gotten a job at a small newspaper in Queens. Lacey congratulated her and assured her she would be perfect. She was just about to make an excuse for why she had to log off when the girl jarred her with a statement.

StarGazer2002: Did you know Adam and I hooked up a few times? Actually like, kind of alot of times?

A draft blew cold air into the pit of Lacey's stomach as her fingers paused over the keys. Surely this was a joke. But she could only manage one word.

CatsCradleGurl_1980: Oh?

StarGazer2002: More like "ohhh yeah." He's a heck of a lay.

Feeling sick, Lacey pressed on.

CatsCradleGurl_1980: Why would u tell me something like that?

StarGazer2002: Just thought u should kno what he's up 2 in case u were wondering.

CatsCradleGirl_1980: Well I wasn't. He's living his life and I'm living mine.

Swallowing a huge lump in her throat that felt like when you were a kid and accidentally swallowed a whole piece of hard candy, Lacey nearly closed the chat window. But something caused her to pause as she read Tessa's next message.

StarGazer2002: I'm not the only one. He gets around. Thanks for completely ruining him. Seems he doesn't want anything "serious" from anybody since I'm guessing you dumped him. Too bad for those of us who actually care and could make him happy.

Indignant, Lacey quickly typed the first thing she could think to say, dropping the informal chat lingo.

CatsCradleGirl_1980: Adam wouldn't do that. You're lying and I have no idea why.

StarGazer2002: Why would I?

Lacey typed furiously again:

CatsCradleGirl_1980: Probably because he wouldn't date you and you want to put it on blast to get him back. An interview wasn't enough I guess.

StarGazer2002: No, he wouldn't date me. But he did do me. I could probably even give you details to make you know I'm telling the truth.

Shut up! Lacey wanted to scream aloud, as though Tessa could hear. Shut up SHUT UP!

Angry tears blurring her vision, Lacey typed:

CatsCradleGirl_1980: How does it feel to be just a number, then? And if you're looking to make me so jealous I'd go after him for it and you'd win the revenge game, let me tell you I'm dating someone else now so what he does isn't' my problem. Feel free to go back and tell him that, too.

Lacey knew exactly how childish it was for her to have added that last part, but this news had sent her over the edge of reason.

Why her?! Adam had never acted the least bit interested in Tessa. And why anyone and everyone else, if that was even true? Sex had been special to the two of them. Sacred. Had he actually been wanting to do this all along, and her setting him free had given him license to sew his wild oats?

"College changes people," she'd always heard again and again. Maybe by now Adam had been "good" for so long he was ready to have some fun. And did this mean he'd already been sleeping with other girls when she had been intimate with him in Albany? She had assured him she was still on hormone-regulating birth control, so they hadn't used any additional protection. How many STD's might she have gotten from that encounter?

Questions flooded Lacey's mind more quickly than she could put them to rest, and her breath was coming short. She wanted to go crawl under the bed sheets and stay there. But first, she would have to get rid of this girl who had turned out to be a horrible, spiteful human being.

CatsCradleGurl_1980: Never contact me again.

Tessa had immediately sent her a response, but before she could read it, Lacey closed her window and went to the main one to "Block Contact."

There. It was gone. But the damage had been done to her soul.

It was only a week or so later that she gave into Jeff's pressing for them to take the "next step" in their relationship. Lacey was anything but ready, but to her, it was something to just get out of the way. Jeff would be happy, and she figured that, in time, she would be too.

Afterward, he promptly fell asleep, which was convenient. Lacey took her pillow into his dorm bathroom and sat in the tub, sobbing into the sound-absorbing cotton. All that could be heard, were Jeff even listening, were tiny squeaks every so often.

Adam had crossed this line with countless other girls, if Tessa was to be believed. So why, after being with a guy she was actually in a relationship with, would she be sitting here crying? It just wasn't fair.

"I don't get it," she sat on Kristy's porch swing the next day, feeling nothing but misery. "If he can do what he's doing and have no conscience about it, why can't I? I mean, and with my own boyfriend?"

"Well," Kristy began. "How do you know he has no conscience about it? Sleeping around is some guys' way of blocking out the pain, Lacey. Not that I'm an expert in men and sex by any means," she blushed. "But it's always what you hear. And it makes sense."

Lacey just shook her head. "You know, breaking up is bad enough. Sorting through the memories the gifts, wondering what they're doing now, mourning the future you thought you had together, but then throw in the added complication of sex. It's just tough."

Kristy nodded, and even though Lacey knew her best friend would take away her pain and answer all her questions if she could, the fact was, nobody in the whole world had that power.

/*/*/*/

College graduation came and went, and with it, Lacey's last few months at home. She found an adorable little studio apartment not far from her new job as a child welfare worker at the county's Department of Social Services. She charged into her new role with zeal, convinced that all she needed to succeed at this job was a concern for kids' welfare, optimism, and the belief that she could make a difference if she tried hard enough.

Three months later, she found herself herding two dirty toddlers smelling of urine to her car, with a carrier on her elbow as a woman screamed curse words after her that Lacey had barely heard before in her life. She had entered the home due to a concern a daycare worker had called in, chronicling the various bug bites and animal bites, plus the dirtiness, that were an everyday occurance for the two- and three-year-old children. Lacey and her partner had entered together ("Safety in numbers, Ladies!") and found two women snorting lines of crack with piles of dog waste nearly to Lacey's knees in each corner. Said dogs were lining the back hall in kennels, whining pitifully.

Lacey had been charged with gathering the children, per the instruction of her more senior partner, and the other woman began having a no-nonsense reality check with whichever woman was the mother. Admiration overtook Lacey as she watched Shannon deal with the shouting, cursing, and at times throwing things that came from the impaired women, all in her calm stride. Shannon remained level-headed as she informed the women that she wouldn't hesitate to call the police if the threatening behavior didn't cease immediately.

But she knew she couldn't just stand there watching her mentor for long, because she needed to get the kids outside to the car and into child safety seats. It was definitely a case of being baptized by fire, because Lacey didn't have the first clue how to fasten them correctly. So she did the best she could, then focused on just warming the traumatized, sobbing children up. She turned the heat on full blast, aiming the vents toward the backseat and their little bare legs, reaching back to cup the littlest's hands in hers and blowing on them. The five-month-old was the one who stayed the calmest, just studying his environment with bright blue eyes.

Lacey was soon joined by Shannon, who got in the car after double checking Lacey's safety seat efforts and began driving away, the women cursing and throwing driveway rocks at the car the entire time. They had gotten about two miles down the road before she dared to speak: "How do you do it? I mean, you stay so calm, so in charge."

"You have to," Shannon replied without taking her eyes off the road. "If you let them, they will eat you alive. And what you're doing is for those kids. You can't lose sight of that, even if the court overturns your decision and sends them back to the parents after all."

Lacey's heart sank at hearing this. "Does that happen often?"

"More often than you'd think," was Shannon's frank reply.

She began to wonder at that point why she'd ever taken this job. The county had offered her wonderful benefits and pretty good pay, but would it prove to be worth it? Could she train her heart to be as hard as stone when she needed it to be in order to be effective?

These were questions Lacey asked continually over the next few months as she adjusted to her job and to living alone. Though that part she truly enjoyed. She loved having money to spend feathering her own little nest, and being able to do what she wanted to do without answering to anybody. If she wanted to eat cake icing for dinner, she could do so with no questions. If she felt like going to Walmart in the middle of the night, there was no one to stop her. For the longest time, she reveled in it, spending enough time with Kristy and her parents and sisters to keep herself from being lonely.

The biggest thing Lacey took comfort in, though, was her painting. She hadn't ever stopped, despite feeling Yvette's training with every brush stroke. No matter what had happened with her son, the woman had ignited a creative flame from the tinder Lacey realized she'd always had inside her. And she would carry it with her always. She spent almost all her free time creating picture after picture, most of them poignant but whimsical subjects, and after awhile, she ran out of room for them all. So she gifted most for Christmas. In her own apartment, she hung a painting of lit up Christmas trees, bent at various angles, donned in colorful balls. In the center, the largest tree was draped by a maroon scarf.

Yvette had peacocks. And she would have maroon scarves.

It was at Christmas that her world felt like it came to a screeching halt when, just after helping her decorate her tree, Jeff pulled a gorgeous but simple diamond out of his pocket and asked to put it on her finger.

Lacey stared at it for the longest time, feeling suddenly like she was going to be sick. Was this how it was supposed to feel when someone asked you to marry them? It was a big deal, and she wasn't sure she was ready for it. Before she could answer, tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, and even then she knew it was because…

…This is the wrong man.

What? Her brain challenged itself for a moment. Jeff was a good guy, a guy she'd grown quite close to, and he would make a great match for her in almost every way. They enjoyed one another's company, he made her laugh, and he was serious about and successful at his own job as a junior financial advisor for big companies. In just a few short months, he'd made a great life for himself, and Lacey could lean on that stability. He was here offering it, literally, in his hand.

And no, he wasn't Adam–the name that continued to hammer the inside of her brain as she tearfully regarded the engagement ring. But Adam had gone to follow his dream, and after over a year of not having any contact with him whatsoever, she had so little left of him. He had been her dream. But she was a full-grown woman now, and there were some dreams a person had to put away in order to preserve their sanity, if nothing else.

Knowing Jeff's grin was because he'd assumed her tears to be over his wonderful surprise, Lacey let out a light laugh, sniffling and reaching up to dab at her eyes. "Jeff, I would be honored. Yes. Let's get married."

He jumped up and down like a kid after placing the ring on her finger, whooping and commanding that they call everyone they know to tell them the happy news.

"And…you're good? You really want this?" Kristy asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Of course I want this. Kristy, Jeff's got it all. He's the one I'd pick to be beside me for the rest of my life." Lacey swallowed hard as she spoke, glancing back into the kitchen as Jeff grinned out at her, in the middle of making his own call to his mother.

"Well then congratulations, Lacey. This is really, really wonderful news," her ever supportive friend offered.

Afterward, she slipped outside into the freezing night air and sat down on her tiny terrace, staring out over the city lights. Simply watching the Christmas lights twinkle from far away, the traffic lights change color, the car brake lights adding to the festival of color being woven together in East Minneapolis, soothed her aching heart.

She sat there for a long time, barely feeling the cold air. And all she wanted suddenly was to call him.

"I met someone else, Adam, but I can't move forward with him unless you give me permission, or let me go. If you're not coming back–and I know you're not–then please just release me."

But Adam couldn't do that even if Lacey did succumb to the urge to call him. She didn't need another person to "release" her that way. She knew she was the only one who could do that work. And she would. Because now there wasn't a choice.