7:16 Sunday Evening At the beginning of the evening, he was excited and happy to be with me. I could tell by his eyes, and his shoulders that were straight. By the end, as I was scooting closer to him on the park bench, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were telling me that I was making a mistake. He knew it, I knew it, but it was a mistake I had to make. "You're not supposed to be in love with me," he said. "I know, and I sincerely wish I wasn't," I replied as I slipped my hand onto his arm. "I'm not in love with you," he said. I gazed into his eyes, and said, "Do you call every girl 'Angel?' Do you tell every girl you are afraid of leaving her? Do you look into every girl's eyes the way you're looking into mine right now?" He looked away. I kissed his cheek. "We probably will never see each other again. I think eternity is ample enough time for me to get over you. I just.. I want to know. for sure. Before I go. Before You go," I said.

6:55 Wednesday Morning They flopped out into the lawn like fish tossed back into water for being too small. They were too small for society. the lawn was green and lush from the thunderstorm that very morning, but now the clouds were less grey and the sun was beginning to shine through in places. She wore black, he wore orange. They had comfortably been lying in the shade of the clouds, watching as rifts and tears were created and sealed in the mass of white. When the sun poked through, everything got hot very fast. "I shouldn't have worn black," she said. In a week's time, they'll part ways and never see each other again. That's the beauty of graduation.

I got my password back! huzzah!

Maybe you should continue loving me. I planned the rest of my life around you. You know how I hate changing my plans. Is that all I am to you? just a plan? just something that you figured into your life's story and now are too lazy to remove? Oh, well, sure, it sounds really stupid and grotesque when you say it like that. Come on. We could fall in love again, like old times. Why are you fighting this? Maybe I'm sick of falling in love with you. You're a selfish bitch. I know you hate it when I say that, but you call yourself a selfish bitch all the time. I figured it out - it's because you're selfish and a bitch. Come on, why don't you leave me alone? Even if I am selfish and a bitch, what of it? Lots of men date, marry, live with girls who are selfish and bitchy. I still think I love you, what made you decide that I'm not good enough for you anymore? Oh, I don't know, maybe i didn't decide that I'm not too good for you. Maybe you decided that you're too good for me, and i just got sick of it. This isn't getting us anywhere. Please, just leave me alone.

things can get so close to you that you cannot see them anymore...like fingers reaching to your face, you can see the tips of those fingers until the fingers are touching your face, but when the tips of the fingers touch your face, all you feel is the cool fingertip skin stroking your cheek, and you cannot see that it is happening. you can only trust that it is happening and that it is not a dream. And when the hand withdraws you can feel the lines that the cool fingertip skin traced on your cheek for a minute. and he told me, "after you let go of me i can still feel you holding me." and he told me, "you're a phantom." and i told him, "you'll never get rid of me." then he got up and put his clothes on. a flicker of emotion, a flicker of recognition. like when two people who pretend they don't know each other pass on the street. There's a flicker of recognition and an awkward feeling, a should-i-keep-eye-contact-or-look-away feeling. Keeping eye-contact makes you strong and intimidating. looking away represents your real feeling. I always try to keep eye-contact until the person i pretend not to know looks away. I passed him on the street the other day. a flicker of recogniton. a flicker of emotion. he was holding his wife's hand. I couldn't hold the eye-contact. he was staring at me with burning eyes. I was overcome with guilt, because his wife was a beautiful woman. and she was my best friend once upon a time. Oh well. I never claimed to be a good person.

story removed on the basis that it sucked and didn't make sense (sorry!) I may go back to the Amy story, edit it, and resubmit it. Then I may repost the unrelated exerpt, edit it, and give it a title and an epilogue.

6:02 Tuesday Evening It was only about 10 p.m. when I got to my room. When I entered the suite, I found Internet on his laptop, staring hard at the screen. I couldn't tell if he was angry or sad or if he even cared. "Hey," I said, softly, half hoping he wouldn't notice me and half hoping he would have forgotten I existed and wonder who was this whacko in his room. Of course these were useless hopes, he noticed me when i opened the door and of course he remembered me. "Hi," he said, flatly. "Let's talk," I said. "Like old times. About movies and making out." He gave me a weak smile. I knew he didn't trust me anymore. I didn't blame him. We talked for an hour and a half and I felt nothing. It was sad that our relationship had fallen through like this, not just that I had lost a lover but also a good friend. There was simply no way we could still be friends after this. There would always be some invisible barrier between us. A mental block because of this. Deep down, however, I knew that Overseas was worth it. After a 20 minute silence and midnight was growing near, I couldn't take it anymore. "Internet, I don't know how to say this really, but I'm sure we both know that I can no longer be a good partner. Better we find this out now than later, though, but I've realised tonight that even after all these years and no chatting, corresponding through e-mails only, that I'm still head-over-heels in love with Overseas. I'm sorry, but it must mean that I'm clearly not the right girl for you. Um, yeah, you should enjoy your last day without me." I wrote him a check for how much my half of the hotel room would cost and went to my room to pack my bag. When I came back out with my two suitcases and put my laptop in my carry-on bag, I said, "I don't think it's a good idea if I stay here with you any longer. I'm sorry, I really am. I wish there was an easy way to do this. I wish you weren't so awesome. Goodbye," and left the room. At 12:30 that morning I had my bags dragged to Overseas's room and I knocked on his door and hoped he wasn't sleeping. He opened the door and my stomach went twisty and useless again. "Hi," I said, completely lamely, including the stupid smile and the wave. You know the wave, fast and utterly awkward. That was the wave. He had just his boxers and eyeglasses on and he yawned and scratched his head in the most attractive way a man can yawn and scratch his head. "Come in," he said. "I fell asleep hoping you'd come back." I dragged my bags in and placed them in the corner. "Do you mind if I camp in your hotel room for the next few days? I can sleep on the couch, but yeah. I just went through an intense...," I paused, not knowing exactly what to say. "An intense...thing. With Internet. Whatever we were, boyfriend-girlfriend, lovers, friends with lots of benefits, whatever, we're not anymore. Seeing you again made me realise that I never got over you. Even though I knew that deep down all along." He swept me into his arms and kissed me on the forehead. I rubbed his nose with mine and he said, "I'm glad." "Is that all you had to say?" I said, "That you're glad?" "Words don't accurately convey the happiness I feel that the most beautiful woman in the universe picked me. Out of all the handsome and wonderful men in the universe, she picked me." I laughed. "That's better. But really, I'm glad that the most wonderful man in the whole universe is allowing me to be a part of his life. I love you." "I love you, too."

10:07 Monday Night I frowned. "What do you mean?" I asked. He listed the reasons he disliked Overseas such as he was too quiet and answered everything too briefly. Internet also said he seemed to get the impression that Overseas assumed too much. I let him babble on a while longer but I didn't want to really get into it. "Well he and I were really close. You know that, and I don't want to get into it," I said (rather bluntly, I suppose). I sighed and finished the conversation with, "I think I'll go for a walk by myself. Without you, without Overseas. Maybe I'll call a friend at home. I need time to think." With that, I took my purse and jacket and left the room. I took the stairs to the top floor and then took the elevator down, pressing all the floor buttons so that it would stop at each floor and take ages to go down. I sat in the corner and waited, thinking to myself about this whole dilemma, and trying to figure out what to do. When I finally reached the lobby, I went outside and strolled around the street, just up and down the one block. I called a friend at home just to say hello, but I got her answering machine. The message I left was, "Hey, it's me, just wanted to call to say Seattle is great, I got a surprise visitor, and I hope you're doing well. Oh well, maybe I'll call tomorrow. See ya, bye." and hung up. On my way back to the hotel from my 18th visit to the south-east corner of the street, 12 visits after talking to the answering machine, I saw Overseas coming out of the hotel. I ran over to him and asked him what was he doing out at this hour of the night, and he said he couldn't sleep. "What are You doing out here?" he asked. "I needed to think," I said. "There were too many distractions in the hotel." He nodded. I knew he'd understand. We went up to his hotel room and sat on the couch drinking water and just talking about the most random and unrelated things. This went on for about half an hour until I decided I should probably go back to my hotel room, to Internet. I left Overseas's suite with the doubtless decision in my mind. I finally knew who I was in love with.

3:40 Saturday Afternoon I was trying to zone out at the table listening to fake conversations and vaguely onlooking the fake smiles and forced laughter at forced jokes, wincing at pointed remarks. "How are you liking America so far?" Internet asked at one point. "It's..." Overseas glanced at me and then looked Internet back in the eye and replied, "It's not excactly what I expected." This sort of thing carried on for a while and I felt my stomach churning the few bites I had eaten and I pushed my chair away from the table and picked up my purse. I handed enough cash to cover my dinner, the tip, and the tax to Internet and called the waiter to get me a box. I stood up and said, "I'm sorry, fellas, but I am feeling kind of sick. They must have put chicken in my food or something. I hope you two have a nice evening, I'll see you back at the hotel but I really honestly don't feel good. See you soon! Be safe." Internet kissed my hand and said, "Well alright, my dear ex-pirate. Be safe on your return." Before I could pick up my jacket, Overseas had stood up and taken it. He helped me into it and kissed my cheek and said, "I hope you feel better soon, darling." I hoped my frustration wasn't showing on my face, or that it was coming across as a sickly sort of expression. I walked around the area a little while trying to calm my stomach down before I went back to the hotel room. I failed to soothe it, I suppose, because when I returned to the hotel, I beelined to the bathroom and puked into the toilet. A rush of memories from senior year and college years came flooding back to me. I never did take stress too well. Many a night before an important exam I was huddled by the toilet with my notes. Trying to study and eating saltines hoping that I wouldn't fail these and have to resort to living in a stolen grocery cart. I felt lots better after throwing up, though, and I got on my laptop and opened a blank notepad file and started listing the good and attributes of each Overseas and Internet, hoping to open up some decision making machine in my brain to get this whole thing over with. In the middle of my "good" lists, I heard the door open and I saved and closed the file, and pretended to be checking my e-mail. Internet walked in and slurped from an almost-empty coffee to-go cup angrily. I hesitated to ask but curiosity won out. In my sweetest-without-being-too-sweet voice I asked him how the rest of dinner went. "The nerve of that guy!" Internet started...

6:10 Friday Evening Internet arrived at the Thai place about 15 minutes after I called him and when I saw him way down the street, I dropped Overseas' hand. My mind was racing; I was not quite sure what I was supposed to do with two boys and which one should I choose and how do I get out of this with two friends and no mauled feelings? As Internet approached, I could see that he was wearing his indie brown corduroys and a tight green shirt. I had to admit it, he was smokin' the way one does when they're so hott it's almost firey. I closed my hanging jaw and nervously laughed at nothing and inwardly kicking myself for acting like a sophomore girl meeting the hottest senior boy at school. "Let's go in, shall we?" I ordered something vegetarian and the guys ordered, I don't know, whatever they felt like eating; it wasn't important. Dinner conversation was forced and overly polite. How could this be happening to me? I wasn't worth this kind of conflict. No more than one boy was supposed to be in love with me at any given time. Vice versa, as well; I wasn't supposed to be in love with more than one boy at once. I probably wasn't, I just couldn't tell at the current moment. I sat there almost silent while Internet asked Overseas polite questions about work, the country in which he lived, Overseas answered them with as short answers as he could manage and still be polite, and I poked at my food. I seemed to have lost all appetite at all.

My day was routine. Class, break, class, work, home. I couldn't bring myself to call her again. My days were just routine and my heart was heavy because I was getting e-mails from James saying that her health was deteriorating and she wasn't even eating anymore on her own will. I just couldn't call her. I got the news last night. James called me. He was in hysterics. He told he me loved her and he felt like it was his fault that there was something he was supposed to do and he didn't. Amy's dead. She slit her jugular vein and took a whole bottle of aspirin and seven Valium pills. James was crying. Rob was on the other phone and he was crying too. I was shockingly calm and it scared the hell out of me. Amy was my best friend and I couldn't even shed a tear. She was so beautiful and I wasn't even crying for her. "James," I said, "No matter what you did she was probably gonna... end up...like this..." I trailed off and I couldn't find anything to say. Eventually, after an hour and a half of listening to James cry and try to tell me all the things he could have done, I told him I had to go and I just hung up the phone. Just in case Amy could hear me from wherever she was, I said as finally one tear dripped from my eye, "Well. Maybe finally you can be happy."

5:53 Tuesday Afternoon I was at a loss, regarding words to say. My hand was fidgety since I let go of his hand, so I held my elbow instead. My fingers beat irregular cadences on my arm. My tongue was tying itself in knots in my mouth while my stomach did flips in my midsection. Very wittily, I replied, "What?" He took a deep breath. "Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked. "Oh. Um. Not officially." I almost told him about falling in love but bit my tongue. I just left it at that and instead of elaborating, I said, "Oh, hey, let's check out a museum or some art, or just go walking the streets, okay?" We were in the lobby at this point. I took us to some touristy places in the rental car. Around 6 p.m. I suggested we get some Thai food to take back to the hotel for us and Internet. He looked very deep in thought. I was confused so I took his hand and asked him if everything was okay or if he just couldn't decide what on the menu he should get. We were standing outside a cute little Thai restaurant and there were people bustling all around, The streets were winding down from the rush hour traffic and he turned to face me. He put the hand I wasn't holding on my cheek and gently kissed me. Those damn jelly legs came back. I said, "Mmurrr.." because I am so witty. When I regained semi-coherentness, I asked, "What was that for?" "I don't know," he admitted. He was rubbing my thumb with his and I smiled. "Your beauty enraptures me even all these years later." I called the hotel from my cell phone and asked Internet what he was up to. He seemed sort of lonely and grouchy. I asked him if he wanted to meet us at the thai place, or if he wanted me to bring him back food, or if he wanted something else entirely. He said he'd come over to the Thai place. I wasn't sure whether I was glad to see him again, or worried what might happen putting these two to dinner at the same table.

8:46 Sunday Evening "Who's that?" Overseas asked as we walked down the stairs (because of our anti-elevator inclinations). "That's a....Really good friend of mine. Who I met a long time ago. He's from New York. We have so much in common, and we were always thinking the same thing; it was like we were clones or something." I replied. I didn't tell him the whole story, of how we fell in love and then I met this Overseas guy and secretly fell in love with Overseas instead. We never told each other that we loved each other. I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him, it was just one of those unsaid things that you didn't say (as would be obvious since it was an unsaid thing). "Oh," was all he said. He looked really disappointed for some reason and it was sad so I smiled at him and took his hand. My knees promptly turned to jelly and it was all I could do to not fall down the rest of the stairs. Is that what it's like, falling in love? It involves stairs? "Did they feed you on your flight? Did I ask you that already? Are you hungry? Wanna grab a coffee or a scone or a muffin or, I don't know, a steak or something?" I was babbling but you know, going out to eat is a great way to get reacquainted with someone you haven't seen in four years. Someone you see again and find that your heart seems to have a mind of it's own and it's remembering something that it forgot a long time ago. He smiled back at me and gave my hand a squeeze. I squeezed back and he said, "Yeah, sure, let's get something to eat. A steak though? Are you not a vegetarian?" "Oh I am still but maybe you like steak. I could always just eat bread. Seattle's full of liberal vegetarians and vegans so I'm sure I'd be able to find something on the menu to suit my taste." We were finally at the end of the staircase and my jelly legs didn't have to work as hard anymore. I let go of his hand and shot a furtive look at his face. He certainly wasn't cute anymore. He was drop-dead gorgeous. "Am I still pretty?" I asked him before I could stop myself. "I told you you were still beautiful when i first saw you. Why would I say that if it wasn't real? You weren't expecting me to so I wasn't lying to appease you. I really..wow. That guy, he's not your boyfriend is he? I mean I wouldn't be surprised if he was, I mean do you have a boyfriend? I mean I missed you. A lot."

I slapped a grin on my face and tried as hard as I could to be cheerful and innocent when I said, "Internet, this is Overseas! Overseas, Internet," as the two men shook hands, curiously eyeing each other. Shit shit shit shit shit, I thought. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Seeing Overseas like this completely knocked my socks off, figuratively speaking. I wasn't sure whether I was ecstatic to see him again or if I was terrified. Overseas took my hand and kissed my knuckles the way he always used to when we were dating. "You're still as gorgeous as ever," he breathed. I bit my lip. Internet stood up and kissed me on the cheek in a smoochy sort of way. Were they competing? Was that look Overseas just shot at Internet a glare? In my cute little girlish fantasies, I'd always imagined being fought over by two guys, but I'd never actually wanted it to happen. The whole having to choose idea just didn't appeal. I sat back down at my laptop in order to keep from falling down and took my cofee, hoping my hands weren't obviously shaking. I said, "So. How was your flight?" in as casual a voice as I could muster. "It was fine," he said. "Long, but not too bumpy, and I got to sleep for the majority of it." "How did you get work off? Where'd you get the money? WHY'd you come?" He seemed kind of hurt and confused, and honestly, I didn't blame him. I knew I was being harsh but I was just so overwhelmed. He answered the questions. "It's quiet at work, I knew you were going to be in Seattle. I've been saving up in a flight funds bank account specifically for this cause. I came because I wanted to see you again to see if what we had was special. Perhaps I caught you at a bad time...you never told me you were married, you aren't are you?" "No, no, no, I'm not married. I'm not .. married. No." Now I was stuttering and blubbering. All the time I'd spent with him when I was there in high school. All the memories came rushing back to me. Internet was a great lover, but was the attraction I felt with Internet anything more than physical with the added bonus of intellectual conversation? Overseas and I never came close to having sex but he'd always been so fun to hang out with and talk to. Even just e-mailing. After reflecting on the pros and cons of my two suitors, I asked Overseas, "...Do you need a place to stay? Because I'm sure you can have the couch. How long are you here for? Do you have a hotel set up already? What're your plans?" He had a room a floor below us booked for five nights. Internet was flying back the day after tomorrow, and I was trying to find a car to buy. I read a few ads in the classifeds and was going to check them out that afternoon or something. There was still plenty of sight-seeing to do around Seattle. "Are you busy?" I asked Internet. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read and said, "...A little bit. Uh, why don't you and uh, Overseas go out...and, uh. I don't know." He seemed at a loss. Usually witty and articulate (much to my annoyance since I am so NOT witty and articulate), it was weird to see him like this. I took Overseas' elbow and led him out in the hall. "We'll be back in a bit," I called to Internet as I shut the door. "No wild orgies," I heard him say through the door. That's more like him...

10:57 Tuesday Night   The Thing A Girl Might Dream Another scene in my head. I hate coming up with names. go my first personniss. We'd always joked online about meeting. We had each other's addresses, We sent each other postcards from exotic places we visited. We had sort of an online relationship which sounds stupid but it meant something to me. And it meant something to him. I've always been the type to fall in and out of love so easily. He was the artsy music type with romantic ideas and a witty charm. We had a running joke about being clones of different genders, having so much in common politically and interest-wise. I moved to a far away country once when i was young, dragged overseas by my family, only to find out that I was absolutely, head-over-heels in love with it. I made friends within days of starting school. I had a boyfriend within two months. I fell in love with him too. He had the accent, the body, the humour, the intelligence, the chiseled face. He knew little to nothing about art but he was fun to watch rugby with, and he did try. He went with me to art galleries and plays. He didn't exactly support me when i wanted to bleach my long golden locks to almost white but he didn't try to stop me because he wanted me to do what i wanted. Plus he was a great kisser and what he had to say made me think. When I left I didn't really try and get attached to anyone else. I spent a lot of time on my studies and went out on a few dates with various boys who might have been attractive but I had no time for such frivolities. I kept in touch with both guys, sending instant messages or long, flirtatious e-mails. my internet lover and I had always talked about meeting in Seattle, and one day I decided to try to go there for spring break the next year and maybe also buy a new car, two years into college. I e-mailed him with the question of did he have the time to maybe meet in seattle this next year? We worked out the details and made dates and had a plan. Through e-mailing, it came up in conversation with my high school over-seas boyfriend. I didn't tell him I was going with the internet boy, i didn't see point. As the days drew nearer to my trip, I gave him the dates I would be gone when he asked, assuming he wanted to know when he should not bother e-mailing. I met my internet lover in the airport terminal and he swept me into a long hard smooch that took my breath and almost my knees away. I got a call on my cell phone halfway into the trip from my overseas man on an unknown number asking what hotel i was at. "Why?" I asked. "I don't know. I miss talking to you. polite conversation?" So I told him, still kind of confused, I even gave him my room number and the phone number in case he felt like calling again. Internet and I were drinking coffee on the coffee table in the hotel suite with our laptops open, listening to the latest indie sensations on Internet's good usb-connected speakers, talking to each other, IM-ing our friends, e-mailing our families, and having a relaxed morning before going window shopping after lunch in a couple hours. We heard a knock on the door. I got up to open it, expecting housekeeping (although I wondered why they were here so early), and saw Overseas. It was a good thing I had swallowed my coffee and left my thermos on the coffee table, because I would have dropped the thermos and spit the coffee all over his face. It was probably also a good thing I was wearing a tanktop under my robe since the hand clutching it together dropped to the side when i saw his face. He embraced me and I, still in shock, nervously hugged him back, hardly squeezing. He kissed my open mouth and said, a little bit obviously, "surprise!" I swallowed and hesitantly invited him in....

I wished James would stop pretending he wasn't in love with Amy. Maybe it would make Amy's condition worse, but you never know the good it could do. Amy had been "in love" with James since day 7, if not sooner. She could be so subtle about things, though. Which is why I never knew about her destructive habits until three years ago. She’d been living with it for 4 years now, and things only seemed to get worse as the days go on. “Hey,” I crooned, “What colours are your pills this week?” She sniffed, “They’re yellow stars. Very cute.” “Yay,” I giggled. “Better than the putrid green ovals.” She laughed a little bit. Ever since I found out about it, it’s kind of been our light-hearted way of talking about difficult subjects—What colour are her pills this time? There was silence on the line. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t “Let me drive you here. I’ll fly over and we can drive over here, you, James, and me. It’ll be like a road trip!” or something to that effect. My train of thought was halted when Rob suddenly moved. He put his now-emptied cup of tea down and poured my now-cold and as-of-yet-untouched tea down the sink. He touched my face and looked into my eyes with a sad sort of look. Then he kissed my forehead, squeezed my hand, and went back to bed. The sitcom with the laugh track was still audible, static and far-away in the phone, although I guessed since I couldn’t hear Amy breathing or doing anything, that she had moved the mouthpiece away from her mouth so that I couldn’t hear her. “Amy, Amy, Amy,” I softly said. “James took away my Swiss Army Knife,” Amy replied. “Ha. Well it’s good to know the boy has a brain,” I said. The memory of the word “Bitch” carved oh-so-eloquently into Amy’s fore-arm was as clear as yesterday in my mind. James confided in me that she had been showing him her scars for ages, while I was away, and he would ask me what he should do. I would have no idea. I still don’t, by the way. “You know I love you,” I said, more seriously, into the phone. “Remember when we were little? We would play dress-up and have tea parties and make your little brother pretend to be a girl with us! We named him Juliette instead of Julian! And our sleepovers on Friday nights, remember those? I’d go to your swim lessons and watch you and be so jealous on Saturday mornings. And when you got sent home from boarding school I was so glad because it meant I could see you more often, and we used to plan our weddings, and we’d be the maids of honour at each-other’s wedding, and…. and…” I trailed off. I was almost hysterical. I was the one sobbing now, and Amy was the one who was silent on the other line. She was not the type to cry when someone else was. Sometimes I started crying just because I was watching someone cry. “June,” Amy said, “I’m sorry.” She paused. I suppose she was searching for what. “I know; I am too, I don’t know, maybe I should let you go, try some warm milk even though it’s disgusting, it’s supposed to put you to sleep, or a hot water bottle, or I suppose James is good for that-” I rambled on until Amy stopped me. “June!” she said indignantly. “James and I are not even sharing a room!” I smiled weakly. I had a feeling she’d pick that part out over all my inane ramblings. Either that or she would tell me that warm milk was so disgusting she’d rather eat mud. “Go to sleep, girl. You can call me when you get home from work if you want, but you need to go to bed right now,” she commanded. That’s my Amy. She’s so bossy. “You should try to sleep as well. Goodnight. I love you,” I said, and hung up the phone. I wiped tears from my eyes and made another tea. I actually drank this one. It was almost three when I finally went back to bed. Rob was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a book in the light the moon cast through the window. I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, counting the stars I could see in the square of glass. “Things will turn out alright,” Rob said, closing his book and rubbing my back. “There are 29 stars in our window,” I replied, completely irrelevantly. “Stupid light pollution.” “Go to sleep, June,” Rob murmured as he gently pushed me in the direction of the pillow. “I love a forceful man,” I teased, crawling over to my pillow and slithered under the covers. When I woke up again, it was 9:37 a.m. and all I wanted to do was sleep. At least it was Friday, and my first class didn’t start until noon. Rob was already gone. It was 6:37 Amy’s time…. I eventually showered, ate, and brushed my hair and teeth. I grabbed my books and walked to my class in ten minutes. I got there half an hour early.

2:33 Thursday afternoon   My Pretend Ideal Ending Whatever. Everyone reckons their love is special. That their love will last. "Oh no, this time it's different." It's always different. It's always fucking different. But what if it's real, what if this is true? I can only picture it in my head. I've gotten myself involved somehow in another couple of relationships as time goes by, just for fun, just because. Because I can't go even a month or two without a boy friend. I get attached, sort of, but things happen, we break up, every time. One day, I get an e-mail from him, saying he's scraped up some cash and has enough for a ticket to LAX and from LAX to SLCIA. I'm just barely 18, I've just graduated high school, and I've been accepted to USU with plans to major in Industrial Hygeine. I got a job and moved out and bought a scummy two-bedroom apartment in the "city" which is about a 15 minute drive from mum and dad's, and I still do my laundry at home and have weekend meals there. I e-mail him back saying I have an extra bedroom and I'd be glad to put him up for a few nights but be warned of the culture shock--as there isn't any here. Two weeks later, I'm hanging out at SLCIA with a bouquet of daisies in my hand, boredly glancing at my watch every, oh say...three seconds, and the flight board every second after that, his flight says it's on time but I got here 45 minutes too early. I look disapprovingly at the excited crowd of people in the same vicinity, all chattering excitedly and excitedly holding up a "Welcome Home Elder So-and-So!" banner, excitedly holding their breaths, excitedly drinking sprite (or rootbeer). I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should be excited or if I should be scared or if I should even care. Finally the flight board says his plane is landed, but I know I have to wait for ages for him get off and down to me. And then it's another wait for him to get his checked luggage. I'm beginning to wish I'd dragged along a girlfriend. Then... After what seems like EONS, the excitedly everything WELCOME HOME ELDER SO AND SO! mob is still there, excitedly picking at their nails (haha! their Elder So and So's flight was delayed due to bad weather in Hiati or Columbia or Chicago, who knows. I'm so horrible for delighting in this), but I finally see a familiar nose, and a familiar pair of glasses, and a familiar grey-blue polo, and familiar white shorts. I know he won't recognise me just by glancing as I've chopped my hair off into a cropped 'do (and also I've dyed my hair brown) so I get up off the floor (for a 45 minute wait, I'm gonna sit on the floor) and run (yes, I actually run) to greet him. I hug you as tight as I can and he finds my mouth with his and I realise I've dropped my bouquet of daisies when one of the excited yahoo's from Orem or something taps me on my shoulder and hands it to me. I take the bouquet and thank the excited do-gooder with a genuine smile and hug my boy even tighter. I wore the heels just for him. God knows how I ran in them. They make me about four and a half inches taller than him but I don't care. My stomach is doing flipflops as I feel waaay more self-conscious than I thought I would, fingering my newly-brunette locks and saying, "haha, don't worry, it's only temporary." He kisses me again, takes my hand, and say, "I need to get my luggage" in his beautiful accent and I say, "of course!" in my stupid american one and lead him to the baggage pick up. We hang out in SLC a wee while, it's dark and it's night and he's completely awake (he took a nap on the plane and it's only 6 p.m. Kiwi time) but the city is beautiful so we have dinner and I drive us to my teeny scummed up apartment and it's after midnight. Almost one a.m. I'm knackered but at least i've cleaned up. I even changed the sheets, borrowing a set from Mum and Dad. I don't have another bed but I say he can sleep in mine, I'll take the couch. He says nonsense, he'll take the couch, and I say "you silly boy, trying to be the gentleman." I get the only nightie i own and change in the bathroom and ask if he wants to shower, he says he'll wait til morning. I kiss him. and then he kisses me back. And I say "lets sleep in my bed," and shockingly he agrees. And nothing NAUGHTY happens (you preverts), but it sure is nice to wake up to his face in the morning. In the year and a few months that we've been apart, we kept e-mailing flirtatiously and seriously, keeping in touch, and if he's changed at all except maybe he's a teeny bit taller and a teeny more grown-up looking, I can't tell. At the end of his visit, the night before he's told me he's got to go, I confess to him that I will hardly be able to stand him leaving, It was hard enough to leave him the first time, I donno what I'll do! Then he whips out a bouquet of roses from no where (hey, it's my fantasy), and a ring, gets down on one knee and says he wouldn't be able to stand it either. And he will stay here and marry me, but he has to finish uni at home. And so he'll come visit me in a few months ..... Oh i have no idea. Maybe we'll just like, iunno. get over it. I kind of hope not though.

There was screaming that sounded far away, and a nearby shadow urgently whispered, "It's not real." Suddenly everything dissolved and I found myself in a familiar bed with a familiar sleepy arm thrown carelessly across my shoulder, and my own left arm was under the neck of my softly snoring fiancé. I looked at Rob's watch, which glowed softly in the dark, temporarily staining the bedclothes green. 1:22 a.m. it told me. I gently slid my arm from under Rob's neck and extracted his arm from my shoulder and put on my glasses, waiting for my right leg to gain consciousness so I could swing it over the side of the bed to join the other one, and I could pull myself to the kitchen to make hot tea for myself. I was frustrated with myself. If I had the money, I would fly home right now. My best friend was frighteningly ill and I couldn't be there to comfort her. It was only 10:22 p.m. where she was; maybe I could call her? But I wouldn't know what to say. I wandered to the kitchen to put some water on the kettle and thought things over some more. I desperately wanted her to be at my wedding, be one of my bridesmaids, but she had to refuse. Things just wouldn't work that way, I guess. I picked up the phone and pressed it against my face; the cool plastic felt good on my hot skin. The dial tone felt empty and hopeless, so I pushed in the area code and the first three digits of her number to make it stop. I hesitated, but ultimately pressed the last four numbers and listened anxiously to the monotonous ringing sound. My heart jumped when I heard the click of a phone picking up and my best friend's voice saying, "Hello, this is Amy." She sounded so tired. "Hey," I said softly. "'Sme. I didn't wake you, did I?" Almost all traces of tiredness left her voice and she replied, "Oh my God! Noon!" I cringed and smiled at the use of my old nickname. "No, you didn't wake me up, don't worry." "What's going on, how are you doing?" I questioned, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I turned the tap on to put water in my kettle. "The medication," she said, and paused for a moment. "I can hardly sleep at night even though I'm dead tired all the time. But I guess I'm holding up okay. James, remember James? He's moved in with me. He's gone to bed by now--" I quickly glanced at the time on the microwave, 1:39, it blinked at me. "--But only because he starts work tomorrow at 7 instead of 8. So he can come home earlier. He calls me from his cell, like, seven times a day," I grinned at Amy's faux-annoyance, "to make sure I've taken the right pills or to give me someone to cry to if I get overly frustrated. He's been a lovely help these past few months," she trailed off and I refrained from offering her money to get James and her here. I bit back questions and suddenly she exclaimed, "June! What time is it?!" I glanced wearily at the clock again and took the kettle off the stove before it started squealing. 1:42. "Oh,... You know... 10:40 p.m....plus three times sixty,” I ventured. "Holy fuck, June! Why are you not in bed!?" she demanded. I pulled my hand through my long, brown hair and sighed, "I had a bad dream. Don't worry." I dropped a tea bag into a teacup full of steaming water and swished it around with a teaspoon, pouring some raw sugar into it, looking blankly at the brown mixture. We were silent for a while. I heard a door open and a loud yawn. I saw a pale chest, hairy legs, and squinting eyes. I giggled into the phone and said, "The zombie has risen." Robert looked at me incredulously for being on the phone at such an unholy hour, poured himself some hot water, and made tea for himself. He didn't bother saying anything. I scratched my arm awkwardly and asked, "What are you doing," to my dear Amy. "I don't know," she whispered. "You're okay?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, but her voice sounded distracted and, well, not okay. "What's going on, what's wrong?" I asked. "I'm tired, I guess." She faltered. I had never wanted to be home as badly as I did right at that moment. "Can you get James? Or do those relaxation exercises; do they work? I wish you were here, Amy, I really do." "No, I wish you were here," she corrected. I bit back a desperate plea for her to come visit me. I bet, if I tried really hard, I could save enough money to bring her and James here. For my wedding, at least. Who was I kidding? Amy needed to stay in a familiar environment. She might have a breakdown with the hustle and bustle of an airport, checking baggage and getting through security. And even if she somehow managed to get through to actually boarding the plane, she would probably be reduced to a quivering claustrophobic 3-year-old by the time the plane lifted off. Suddenly Rob grunted in the way that men do sometimes, and I remembered he was there. "Remember what I said about the Zombie?" I joked into the phone. "Rob's just sitting there staring at me. He came in a few minutes ago. Rob, what are you doing? Go back to bed." He just continued to stare. "Haha," she chuckled half-heartedly. "I remember when you first met Rob three years ago." Right before I found out how ill Amy was. I remembered it too. Mixed blessings, I supposed. "And how much I hated him, and his arrogance," I chortled back to her, well aware that Rob was paying attention, trying to guess the half of the conversation that he wasn't hearing. "You would always get so pissed, when his grade was always above yours in the biochem class you shared your freshman year in college, and come whining to me, the psycho major. And now I'm just psycho." I wished she hadn't said that last part. I said what I was thinking, "I wish you wouldn’t say that, Amy." "What," her voice was strained and high. It still sounded far away; distracted. "You don't want me to say what I am? Psycho. Psycho, psycho, psycho, psycho, psych-" I heard crying. "Amy," I tried, but no answer. I hated this. I knew she didn't do it just to hurt me, but the cuts. The pretend happiness. Carving hopeless words into her arms, and hiding it from everyone, including me. James was the only one she'd ever show. I'd known Amy since we were 7. I introduced her to James in our junior year of high school and they'd become really good friends. I knew that Amy had a thing for him from the beginning, and James knew it too, but pretended not to notice. He liked Amy but just as a friend. Besides, he had a girlfriend for junior and senior years. Amy and James grew really close, though. James saved her when I couldn't. Sometimes it made me jealous, and sometimes it made me relieved. James was so levelheaded. The only things preventing Amy from asking him to marry her were their religious differences, and a fear of hurting him. I never know what to say at times like these. "Amy," I said again, "would you like me to stay on with you?" "Yes," she choked. I could tell she was trying to be quiet; that a background noise I could only assume was an old TV sitcom with a forced laugh track was louder now. She didn't want to wake James up. I wished James would stop pretending he wasn't in love with Amy. Maybe it would make Amy's condition worse, but you never know the good it could do. Amy had been "in love" with James since day 7, if not sooner. She could be so subtle about things, though. Which is why I never knew about her destructive habits until three years ago. She’d been living with it for 4 years now, and things only seemed to get worse as the days go on.