A letter from the editors
CN: In this editor's letter, we bring up some of the disturbing anti-queer and anti-trans legislation and social violence currently sweeping across the United States, including a mention of state-sanctioned CSA. As always, please prioritize your own self-care and mental wellness over engagement with any of our content.
Happy Pride, Crown & Pen Family!
We hope that everyone is having a safe and joyful Pride Month thus far, however you choose or are able to celebrate this special time of year that honors queer history and accomplishments, as well as the ongoing fight for equality and equity among people of all sexualities and genders.
To be perfectly candid, it's a scary time to be queer, whether you're out or closeted (or a little bit of both, which is most of us a good amount of the time). Throughout the United States as well as other parts of the world, rollbacks on hard-won civil rights and open attacks on queer and trans people and communities are happening with more frequency and aggression.
This past weekend, a caravan of white nationalists were (thankfully) intercepted en route to a Pride event in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where they had planned a riot. Days later, members of the hate group the Proud Boys stormed a library in the Bay Area, interrupting a Drag Queen Story Hour event with slurs, defamatory accusations, and white power hand gestures. (We encourage everyone to read this Teen Vogue interview with Kyle Chu, aka Panda Dulce, the drag queen who was targeted that day. Their resilience and resolve are truly humbling and inspiring.) Hundreds of anti-queer/anti-trans bills have already been proposed or passed in state legislatures across the United States; in our home state of Texas, the state now has the authority to investigate and charge parents who provide their transgender children with gender-affirming healthcare with child abuse, and in Ohio, a bill passed in the State House of Representatives that would subject minors to violent state-sanctioned sexual assault in order to "prove" they are female enough to play on girls sports teams. And sometime this month, the US Supreme Court is set to rule on a reproductive rights case that will – as much as it pains us to say it – almost certainly overturn Roe v. Wade, the landmark 1973 case that legalized abortion nationwide. This vicious attack on reproductive freedom will have devastating and deadly consequences for millions of people, and opens the door for further rollbacks on other landmark decisions protecting marriage equality, the right to contraception, and many, many other important rights that allow all people to determine the course of their own lives.
June is acknowledged as Pride Month each year to honor the Stonewall Riots that started on the fateful night of June 28, 1969, when patrons of the Stonewall Inn in New York City fought back against cops who were performing "genital checks" at the door to terrorize queer and trans folks who were only seeking fun, camaraderie and community. Our communities have come a long way since then, but in times like these, it's hard not to feel discouraged that things are sliding backwards into the dark ages. It's hard to resist the urge to shrink and retreat into silence. But, as the ACT UP activists of the 80s and 90s adopted as their slogan at the height of the AIDS crisis, "Silence = Death." Silence will not protect us. Silence gives the bigots and the fascists exactly what they want: for us all to disappear into the shadows. But we've come too far for that. We owe it to those who came before us and fought tooth and nail for us to have the rights we do enjoy today, as well as for future generations who will come after us, to stand up and speak our truths. And we also owe it to ourselves.
That's why we are proud to present you with our second annual PRIDE Issue. We're honored that you've chosen to share your wonderful queer stories and poetry with us, and we hope that wherever you are in the world, our tiny little zine brings you some comfort in these dark times and a reminder that you are not alone, that you belong and are needed in this world. Don't stop speaking out, and don't stop being you.
With all our love and solidarity,
Nori & Ashton
PS: F*ck rainbow capitalism!
Happy Pride, Crown & Pen Family!
We hope that everyone is having a safe and joyful Pride Month thus far, however you choose or are able to celebrate this special time of year that honors queer history and accomplishments, as well as the ongoing fight for equality and equity among people of all sexualities and genders.
To be perfectly candid, it's a scary time to be queer, whether you're out or closeted (or a little bit of both, which is most of us a good amount of the time). Throughout the United States as well as other parts of the world, rollbacks on hard-won civil rights and open attacks on queer and trans people and communities are happening with more frequency and aggression.
This past weekend, a caravan of white nationalists were (thankfully) intercepted en route to a Pride event in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where they had planned a riot. Days later, members of the hate group the Proud Boys stormed a library in the Bay Area, interrupting a Drag Queen Story Hour event with slurs, defamatory accusations, and white power hand gestures. (We encourage everyone to read this Teen Vogue interview with Kyle Chu, aka Panda Dulce, the drag queen who was targeted that day. Their resilience and resolve are truly humbling and inspiring.) Hundreds of anti-queer/anti-trans bills have already been proposed or passed in state legislatures across the United States; in our home state of Texas, the state now has the authority to investigate and charge parents who provide their transgender children with gender-affirming healthcare with child abuse, and in Ohio, a bill passed in the State House of Representatives that would subject minors to violent state-sanctioned sexual assault in order to "prove" they are female enough to play on girls sports teams. And sometime this month, the US Supreme Court is set to rule on a reproductive rights case that will – as much as it pains us to say it – almost certainly overturn Roe v. Wade, the landmark 1973 case that legalized abortion nationwide. This vicious attack on reproductive freedom will have devastating and deadly consequences for millions of people, and opens the door for further rollbacks on other landmark decisions protecting marriage equality, the right to contraception, and many, many other important rights that allow all people to determine the course of their own lives.
June is acknowledged as Pride Month each year to honor the Stonewall Riots that started on the fateful night of June 28, 1969, when patrons of the Stonewall Inn in New York City fought back against cops who were performing "genital checks" at the door to terrorize queer and trans folks who were only seeking fun, camaraderie and community. Our communities have come a long way since then, but in times like these, it's hard not to feel discouraged that things are sliding backwards into the dark ages. It's hard to resist the urge to shrink and retreat into silence. But, as the ACT UP activists of the 80s and 90s adopted as their slogan at the height of the AIDS crisis, "Silence = Death." Silence will not protect us. Silence gives the bigots and the fascists exactly what they want: for us all to disappear into the shadows. But we've come too far for that. We owe it to those who came before us and fought tooth and nail for us to have the rights we do enjoy today, as well as for future generations who will come after us, to stand up and speak our truths. And we also owe it to ourselves.
That's why we are proud to present you with our second annual PRIDE Issue. We're honored that you've chosen to share your wonderful queer stories and poetry with us, and we hope that wherever you are in the world, our tiny little zine brings you some comfort in these dark times and a reminder that you are not alone, that you belong and are needed in this world. Don't stop speaking out, and don't stop being you.
With all our love and solidarity,
Nori & Ashton
PS: F*ck rainbow capitalism!
Batty Boy
by David Hanlon
I remember the day you broke in,
my open mouth a busted window,
seized my tongue, my flaring instrument:
like any burglar, you prized
the most expensive-looking necklace
from the jewellery box and wore it yourself.
What is a mouth without a tongue but an empty cave?
Here I am, a forsaken home.
How long before my speech-muscle rejects you?
You, alien host.
Before it leaves you
as muted as you’ve left me?
Like that day — another kind of break-in — when you spat
at me across the red lunch table, spluttered,
slingshot-fast, cleaved
the communal air into a blade,
sharp as the stench of canteen chip fat, clogging
the back of my throat, sealing
my nostrils shut, the buzz
of talky-teen laughter escalating,
my prey-dashing heartbeat
shell bursting my eardrums, B
atty boy, B
atty boy, B
atty boy!
Surrounded
by your friends, surrounded by my friends,
my blue and white striped burger wrapper, soggy,
my sexuality
squashed into expulsion, fractured
into a battlefield.
You all sat and sat and I
sat and sat and I –
how long before
my tongue slows
to collapse
in your wasteland mouth?
Before it falls
lifelessly from your lips
and flops/slinks
back to me.
Do you feel it already?
Can you feel that?
Scything
the back of your throat, twisting
your tonsils, clenching
your uvula?
Do you hear me already?
Hear me shriek,
hear me echo in your mouth?
David Hanlon is a Welsh poet living in Cardiff. He is a Best of the Net nominee. You can find his work online in over 50 magazines, including Rust & Moth, Icefloe Press & Mineral Lit Mag. His first chapbook Spectrum of Flight is available for purchase now at Animal Heart Press. You can follow him on Twitter @davidhanlon13 and Instagram @welshpoetd
my open mouth a busted window,
seized my tongue, my flaring instrument:
like any burglar, you prized
the most expensive-looking necklace
from the jewellery box and wore it yourself.
What is a mouth without a tongue but an empty cave?
Here I am, a forsaken home.
How long before my speech-muscle rejects you?
You, alien host.
Before it leaves you
as muted as you’ve left me?
Like that day — another kind of break-in — when you spat
at me across the red lunch table, spluttered,
slingshot-fast, cleaved
the communal air into a blade,
sharp as the stench of canteen chip fat, clogging
the back of my throat, sealing
my nostrils shut, the buzz
of talky-teen laughter escalating,
my prey-dashing heartbeat
shell bursting my eardrums, B
atty boy, B
atty boy, B
atty boy!
Surrounded
by your friends, surrounded by my friends,
my blue and white striped burger wrapper, soggy,
my sexuality
squashed into expulsion, fractured
into a battlefield.
You all sat and sat and I
sat and sat and I –
how long before
my tongue slows
to collapse
in your wasteland mouth?
Before it falls
lifelessly from your lips
and flops/slinks
back to me.
Do you feel it already?
Can you feel that?
Scything
the back of your throat, twisting
your tonsils, clenching
your uvula?
Do you hear me already?
Hear me shriek,
hear me echo in your mouth?
David Hanlon is a Welsh poet living in Cardiff. He is a Best of the Net nominee. You can find his work online in over 50 magazines, including Rust & Moth, Icefloe Press & Mineral Lit Mag. His first chapbook Spectrum of Flight is available for purchase now at Animal Heart Press. You can follow him on Twitter @davidhanlon13 and Instagram @welshpoetd
Clothes on Conversation
by Aimee Nicole
Aways teasing a finger into my mouth,
sliding it down throat so eager to accept you.
No, I cannot look up into those eyes that undress...
beg for me...accept ugliest, cobwebby corners of the mind.
I’m so brittle I could break with a pinprick,
I’m so strong I could blow down a forest with one breath.
My needs are so insatiable, I cannot sit in the bed with
you and not want to peel those layers off like skin from a fruit.
sliding it down throat so eager to accept you.
No, I cannot look up into those eyes that undress...
beg for me...accept ugliest, cobwebby corners of the mind.
I’m so brittle I could break with a pinprick,
I’m so strong I could blow down a forest with one breath.
My needs are so insatiable, I cannot sit in the bed with
you and not want to peel those layers off like skin from a fruit.
Off the Clock
by Aimee Nicole
Ass dips low
in vintage rusted
bucket seat
and there is no
crowd, no public
demand, for my
first book signing.
A m/m couple approaches
the register at the
erotica shop and
ponders an Oral Sex
Candy pouch.
That’s a great product, I urge.
How it makes your mouth
a gushing geyser,
saliva so thick
and unrelenting
the dick wants to
bury its nuts inside
your mouth for life.
They walk out without
my book but ready to ruin
sheets...as if that isn’t what I’ve
been advocating for all along.
in vintage rusted
bucket seat
and there is no
crowd, no public
demand, for my
first book signing.
A m/m couple approaches
the register at the
erotica shop and
ponders an Oral Sex
Candy pouch.
That’s a great product, I urge.
How it makes your mouth
a gushing geyser,
saliva so thick
and unrelenting
the dick wants to
bury its nuts inside
your mouth for life.
They walk out without
my book but ready to ruin
sheets...as if that isn’t what I’ve
been advocating for all along.
Pinned
by Aimee Nicole
No matter how many positions we master,
entering me from behind in the dark
is my ultimate act of submission.
I am a butterfly pressed and pinned
to the board, on display, only for you.
It’s taken years collected like fireflies
in glass jars to find someone who can
enter me without the urge to scourge memory from flesh.
It’s true, I want you to bury inside me and without warning.
Fill me with your secrets so I can dissolve them into diamonds.
entering me from behind in the dark
is my ultimate act of submission.
I am a butterfly pressed and pinned
to the board, on display, only for you.
It’s taken years collected like fireflies
in glass jars to find someone who can
enter me without the urge to scourge memory from flesh.
It’s true, I want you to bury inside me and without warning.
Fill me with your secrets so I can dissolve them into diamonds.
Open Season
by Aimee Nicole
Out on the Curt Schilling
baseball field you spit upon
the turf with all the other coaches.
All I want to do is unbutton
my jersey and lay beneath you
exposed on that scratchy fake grass.
Yes, aim straight for mouth,
I’ll swallow your hot offering down
gaping throat as the crowd watches on.
baseball field you spit upon
the turf with all the other coaches.
All I want to do is unbutton
my jersey and lay beneath you
exposed on that scratchy fake grass.
Yes, aim straight for mouth,
I’ll swallow your hot offering down
gaping throat as the crowd watches on.
Stuffies
by Aimee Nicole
Subs across Instagram
display their teddy bears
splayed across made beds.
Carefully tag photos
#stuffies.
I still can’t conform
to this common sub practice
because in Rhode Island
stuffies are served hot in taverns.
Clam shells (maybe, maybe not)
rinsed of all their sand.
Piping hot and fishy, ready
to be devoured.
Aimee Nicole is a chronically ill/disabled, queer poet currently residing in Rhode Island. She holds a BFA in Creative Writing from Roger Williams University and has been published by various lit mags. She has two poetry collections: Daily Worship (Laughing Ronin Press) and Panoramic (Curious Corvid Publishing). Feel free to follow her on Instagram @aimeenicole525 for awkward selfies and pictures of her cat.
display their teddy bears
splayed across made beds.
Carefully tag photos
#stuffies.
I still can’t conform
to this common sub practice
because in Rhode Island
stuffies are served hot in taverns.
Clam shells (maybe, maybe not)
rinsed of all their sand.
Piping hot and fishy, ready
to be devoured.
Aimee Nicole is a chronically ill/disabled, queer poet currently residing in Rhode Island. She holds a BFA in Creative Writing from Roger Williams University and has been published by various lit mags. She has two poetry collections: Daily Worship (Laughing Ronin Press) and Panoramic (Curious Corvid Publishing). Feel free to follow her on Instagram @aimeenicole525 for awkward selfies and pictures of her cat.
Stained Glass
by Iona Murphy
It was always glass
But I remain firmly inside
She stays behind the wardrobe mirror
Painting her face with myriads of
Orange pink and white
Seven letters under her breath
On the tongues of others who
Speculate
Seven
Down on one knee
Thirteen
Cornered with their taunts
Sixteen
Born or made
Nineteen
Vodka slushie stained lips
Twenty
The first parade
Twenty-one
Temporary tattoo in blue pink and purple
Twenty-four
Phone in the toilet and tears in her eyes
Twenty-five
In the capital of people like her
Jumping between locations
In out in out in out
In
But I remain firmly inside
She stays behind the wardrobe mirror
Painting her face with myriads of
Orange pink and white
Seven letters under her breath
On the tongues of others who
Speculate
Seven
Down on one knee
Thirteen
Cornered with their taunts
Sixteen
Born or made
Nineteen
Vodka slushie stained lips
Twenty
The first parade
Twenty-one
Temporary tattoo in blue pink and purple
Twenty-four
Phone in the toilet and tears in her eyes
Twenty-five
In the capital of people like her
Jumping between locations
In out in out in out
In
Northampton
by Iona Murphy
The window ledge nook in her bedroom
Dainty butterfly sheets on the floor
Stacks of see through orange bottles
Her notebooks scrawled with black smudged ink
Illegible words
I whisper in the dark
Jumping between the stepping stones
In the garden by Paradise Pond
Mount Holyoke in the distance
Haven House but a stone throw away
Tiptoeing through places we weren’t
Meant to be
3,379 miles between us
Dainty butterfly sheets on the floor
Stacks of see through orange bottles
Her notebooks scrawled with black smudged ink
Illegible words
I whisper in the dark
Jumping between the stepping stones
In the garden by Paradise Pond
Mount Holyoke in the distance
Haven House but a stone throw away
Tiptoeing through places we weren’t
Meant to be
3,379 miles between us
A city known as Lesbianville
by Iona Murphy
I can only ask the universe to let her think about me the way I think about her
My own indecision left in the city
When I knew what I wanted but that internalised guilt won’t settle and I am left
A victim of my own indecision
When months go by and I live in regret that I didn’t kiss her the way I wanted to
Because I was scared
Scared of the backlash if people found out I wasn’t the girl they thought I was
People will talk
The way I want to talk about you and the day we spent together absorbed in archives
I sit and regret
Wishing I could see her again in a city which feels like home
Instead
I sit at home alone with our memories on the tip of my tongue
Iona Murphy (she/they) is a second year PhD student at the University of Huddersfield, exploring body dysmorphia and ableism in the works of Sylvia Plath. Her story Have You Actually Tried Taking a Bath was nominated for Best of the Net 2020. Her creative non-fiction piece A Cocktail Recipe For Disaster was nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020. She has published with Nightingale & Sparrow, Capsule Stories, Little Death Lit, Black Bough, Teen Belle, 3 Moon, Re-Side, The Fruit Tree, Fevers of the Mind, Forty-Two Books, The New Southern Fugitives, Ayaskala, Ang(st) Zine, The Failure Baler, She Will Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, and Brave Voices. You can connect with them on Twitter at @write_with_Iona and on Instagram at @ionasmurfy
My own indecision left in the city
When I knew what I wanted but that internalised guilt won’t settle and I am left
A victim of my own indecision
When months go by and I live in regret that I didn’t kiss her the way I wanted to
Because I was scared
Scared of the backlash if people found out I wasn’t the girl they thought I was
People will talk
The way I want to talk about you and the day we spent together absorbed in archives
I sit and regret
Wishing I could see her again in a city which feels like home
Instead
I sit at home alone with our memories on the tip of my tongue
Iona Murphy (she/they) is a second year PhD student at the University of Huddersfield, exploring body dysmorphia and ableism in the works of Sylvia Plath. Her story Have You Actually Tried Taking a Bath was nominated for Best of the Net 2020. Her creative non-fiction piece A Cocktail Recipe For Disaster was nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020. She has published with Nightingale & Sparrow, Capsule Stories, Little Death Lit, Black Bough, Teen Belle, 3 Moon, Re-Side, The Fruit Tree, Fevers of the Mind, Forty-Two Books, The New Southern Fugitives, Ayaskala, Ang(st) Zine, The Failure Baler, She Will Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, and Brave Voices. You can connect with them on Twitter at @write_with_Iona and on Instagram at @ionasmurfy
Shiva Says “I Love You.”
by Hannah Goldstein
Shiva had everything all set up. Well, almost all set up. Her hand-arranged snack plate was missing something, though she didn’t quite know what. It was already adorned with a variety of plant-based cheeses, crackers, and organic fruit. She’d even sprung for a bowl of nuts, a luxury she could usually live without. Not today.
Shiva was preparing to tell Ray that she was leaving her therapy program. There was still much to figure out – Shiva’s job was only part-time and she needed proof of enrollment in an outpatient treatment plan before she could graduate – but they’d decided on one major thing. In just a few short weeks, Shiva would be moving to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The move still didn’t feel real to Shiva. She was used to discussing everything with Ray before anyone else, even Askale. At least, everything that had happened over the last nine-odd months, which wasn’t much. Still. It had been weird to talk about the move with her parents before talking about it with Ray.
Shiva didn’t call her parents often as a rule. Leaving home was the best thing she’d ever done for their relationship and the infrequent communication that had come from that only made things better. But she’d called her parents earlier that week for the first time in a month. Having already said goodbye to their eldest daughter years earlier, they were mostly unphased by her most recent relocation announcement. Honestly, Shiva thought, they’d been relieved to hear she wouldn’t be in inpatient care for much longer. That had always been their primary concern with her: that she spent too much time on her mental health and not enough time growing other parts of her life. So, she had been happy to give them a glimmer of hope that there was more to her future than endless treatments.
Now, she was facing the unprecedented event of being more nervous to talk to Ray than she’d been to talk to her parents. She’d spent all day preparing, phoning into meetings so she could clean the house, create a playlist, and generally set the vibe. The way it looked now, you’d think her apartment was going to be the location of an elaborate romantic gesture.
“Pickles,” Shiva muttered to herself and shuffled off to the kitchen. That’s what the charcuterie board was missing: pickles. Ray loved these salty miniature pickles to the point that Shiva kept them stocked in her fridge even though she couldn’t stand them. Holding her breath to keep from gagging, she scooped a spoonful into a small ceramic bowl. She hurried back to the living room and made room on the serving plate for this one final touch.
There. Now everything was all set up, and there was nothing to do but wait for Ray to drop by. Shiva settled into the couch, wishing she could smoke to calm her nerves. But she wanted to be sober for this conversation, her first major interpersonal event in nearly a year, since she’d entered her long-term inpatient therapy program.
The knock on the door startled Shiva. She’d been expecting it, but had gotten caught up in her own thoughts and had forgotten to listen to it. Ray was here. Shiva took a deep breath to steady herself and set her phone to “do not disturb.”
Within seconds of opening the door, Ray was already inside on the couch with their shoes off, ranting about their day as Shiva sat down with them.
“You won’t believe what happened at work today,” they said, their eyes on Shiva as she sat down next to them.
“Did someone get fired?” Shiva asked, trying her best to play it cool.
“How on Earth did you know that?” they asked, eyes wide.
“The only other time I’ve seen you this heated was when your boss got fired a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I came in hot.”
“Don’t apologize. I love when you come in hot. It makes me feel important.”
“Well, in that case, let me turn up the burner. It was absolutely bonkers. I can’t even tell you about it, but you know I’m going to. I – are these little pickles?”
They stopped, their entire body animated the way they got when they were telling a particularly exciting story. Ray was a rambling storyteller who used their hands to demonstrate their point. Shiva found it annoying but incredibly endearing.
“They sure are,” Shiva said, blushing slightly.
“You know me well, Rosen,” Ray said, reaching for the plate. They crunched on a pickle and went in for another, double-fisting the salty snack.
“So, what happened?” Shiva asked.
“Oh, Sera, let me tell you,” Ray said through a mouthful of pickle. Shiva wrinkled her nose without even thinking about it. “It was the middle of this meeting, right? So, suddenly this person drops off the call and then we’re put into breakout rooms without being told why or for how long. Then – ”
They broke off again, their eyes wandering around the room.
“It looks nice in here,” they said, sounding genuinely impressed. Shiva couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
“No,” Ray said, “like, it looks really nice in here. I love this song, too. Oh, no.”
“What? Is something wrong?” Shiva turned, trying to see what Ray had seen to make them say “oh, no.”
“No, but that’s exactly it. It’s perfect in here. Like someone reached inside my head and pulled out my ideal night in. Is that a lavender candle?”
It was, indeed, a lavender candle. Shiva had taken great care to pick one out on her grocery trip earlier that day, knowing it was Ray’s favorite scent.
“Yeah, you must be rubbing off on me.” Play it cool, Rosen.
“What, are you going to propose to me or something?” Ray said with a grin.
“What?” Shiva felt her face turn bright red. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m just fucking with you. What’s going on?”
Another deep breath to steady her nerves.
“I need to tell you something.” She couldn’t meet Ray’s eyes. Fuck, why was this so hard? What was she scared was going to happen? Whoa, don’t open that door.
“Are you okay? You’re starting to freak me out. You’re not, like, dying, right?”
“Oh, god, no. Sorry, nothing like that.”
“Then what?"
“So, I’ve been here nine months. Well, almost ten. My program is long. But I’m eligible for graduation soon – ”
“Wait, you’re graduating? Holy crap, Shiva, that’s so incredible. Congratulations! I know you thought you had a couple of months left.”
Shiva nodded.
“I did. I mean, I thought I did. But I talked about it with my therapist and she said I’ve been moving at a faster pace than I’d thought.”
“Graduation! This is so exciting. I’m so proud of you. How much longer until you’re done?”
“Just a couple of weeks.”
Shiva could have sworn she saw a glimmer of devastation cross Ray’s face. She saw it in the crease between their eyebrows, in the quiver of their slightly open mouth. But as quickly as the expression appeared, it melted into a warm smile.
“Oh my god, wow. I know how hard you’ve worked for this and for so long,” they said. “We’ll have to plan something special. I know the facility doesn’t allow residential parties, but I bet we could sneak up to the roof or something. Not that the two of us would be a party, per se, but we could dress up and drink cider or something.”
“That sounds really nice, Ray.” Shiva met their smile with one of her own. Ray frowned in response.
“Oh god, what’s wrong now?” They asked. “Fuck, you really are dying aren’t you? Because if you lied to me about this, I swear to every god –, ”
“I’m leaving Jersey,” Shiva blurted. Ray looked stunned.
“Well, duh. I mean, I love it here and all, but it feels like a worse version of sticking around after you’re done with school. There’s nothing else in this town but the hospital.”
Ray laughed. Their deep brown eyes crinkled and their short black hair – freshly buzzed for the summer-bristled as they threw their head back, revealing the soft skin of their neck.
“Oh my god. Of course, you’re leaving, Sera. Come on. The only question is where. Oooh, where are you going? I’m shutting up now. Go. Tell me. I can’t wait to hear.”
“Santa Fe,” Shiva said shortly. Ray was rubbing her the wrong way, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. What did they mean, of course?
“New Mexico?” Ray asked. “Oh my god, Shiva, you’re literally making your dreams come true. That’s incredible.”
Shiva smiled in spite of herself. She didn’t know what she’d expected from Ray, but this had not been it. Had she expected tears? Anger? By all measures, Ray was reacting positively to this news, but Shiva was far from content.
Why aren’t they asking you to stay? a little voice in the back of her head asked. She tapped her phone, wondering if she’d turned it off silent by accident. She hadn’t, and, incidentally, she had no new messages.
“Thank you,” she said, forcing the thought out of her mind on her own. Ray, however, beamed at her.
“Absolutely, of course. I love you, dude. I can’t wait for both of us to get out of here. Come on, let’s celebrate! Pickles all around!”
They’d forgotten that Shiva didn’t like tiny pickles, that she only bought them for Ray’s sake. She picked one up anyway.
The longer Shiva was in treatment, the easier it was. Maybe that was the point. With just a few weeks left, her program was the easiest it had ever been. Maybe it would be even easier by the time she graduated.
She’d done her homework on Ray for this session. Not just Ray, but her whole ordeal telling them that she was moving. It wasn’t the first time she’d analyzed an interpersonal experience with Ray in front of the rest of her program (how many interpersonal conflicts did she really have going on anyway?), but it might be the last. When Julie, the session’s leader, asked for someone to share their work with the room, Shiva volunteered. How many more times would she get to do that?
The learning module this week was all about recognizing and validating emotion. This was the second time Shiva had gone through the module, but the whole point of the repeating curriculum was that you got a couple of different opportunities to learn as much as possible. As soon as Shiva was done going through her worksheet, Jake raised his hand. He was the
only person who’d been in the program longer than Shiva. He was rounding the corner on a year in treatment. Shiva wondered if she’d end up graduating before him.
“What’s the emotion you identified?” he asked point-blank. Shiva frowned and scanned back over her worksheet.
“Contentment,” she said discontentedly.
“It doesn’t sound like contentment,” he countered. “In fact, you don’t sound resolved with this at all.”
Nothing in Shiva’s notes indicated to her that she was unresolved. Telling Ray had, on paper, gone absolutely as well as it could have gone. There had been no tears, no yelling, no weird icing out. There was no reason for her to be anything but content.
“Why didn’t they ask you to stay?” the voice in the back of her head asked. This time, Shiva recognized it as her own.
“I guess,” she said slowly, figuring out what she was saying as she was saying it, “it went well, but I’m disappointed.”
Jake nodded empathetically. The rest of the room had their eyes glued on her, waiting to hear what she would say next. Only Shiva didn’t know what she was going to say.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed,” Jake finally said. He really had that validating emotions thing down. The rest of the group’s eyes stayed locked on Shiva, telling her to go on.
“I mean,” she went on, “I was just so nervous to tell them, I went out of my way to make the space really nice. I set it all up and they loved everything I did. Everything went just fine. But there’s part of me that wanted them to react differently.”
“Were you hoping they’d give you a reason to get mad?” one of the newer members (Shira, Shiva remembered later) who clearly had just learned about self-sabotage asked. Shiva shook her head.
“No, I feel comfortable in my relationship with anger,” she said, showing off her “program speak.” I know more than you, she may as well have said.
“What did you want from them, then?” Julie gently prodded. Shiva had shared everything with this group – the murky past, the clarity of the present, the hopes and dreams of the future. No one had ever met her honesty with judgment. That was so rare, she thought. She wouldn’t have this forum in all its soft glory forever.
“I wish they’d asked me to stay,” she said quietly. She looked around, hoping no one had heard. Maybe she’d get away with being honest without a crowd. Alas, the room was still listening.
“Have you thought about doing long distance?” someone so new Shiva didn’t know their name or pronouns asked. Shiva laughed in spite of herself.
“Long-distance what?” she asked playfully, though she already knew the answer.
“Well, a long-distance relationship,” the same newbie said, their confidence visibly shrinking. “My boyfriend lives back home in Missouri and we’re doing long distance while I’m here.”
“We’re not dating,” Shiva said, taking care to not reveal Ray’s identity by name. The group followed a strict anonymous policy, which got to be a little ridiculous when it came to their interpersonal work. They were all living, working, and attending therapy in the same two buildings. She felt like a university student, hiding her latest hookup from her dorm mates, something she’d never actually done.
The newbie blushed, a blotchy red highlighting the freckles across their cheeks.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” they said. “I just thought – ”
“It’s totally fine,” Shiva said with a smile. It wasn’t the first time a stranger had thought she and Ray were dating. “I mean, do I love them? Of course, they’re my best friend. Am I attracted to them? Sure, they’re objectively hot. But we’re not, like, in love or anything.”
“That sounds like love to me,” Jake said. He was the only one who could have gotten away with saying that and he knew it. Shiva chuckled, expecting someone (anyone) else to join in with her.
She laughed alone. Suddenly, she felt the need to defend herself.
“No, yeah, we absolutely love each other. Like, I do love them. But we’re not in love,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. Why did people always think she and Ray were a couple? She wanted to claim homophobia, but she knew Jake was queer, too.
When Shiva had been much younger, with a different name and home, she’d been in a friendship like this where everyone had thought they were dating. It didn’t help that she used to fuck her friends like it was a prerequisite for friendship. She had never dated this friend, but everyone assumed they were dating because they spent all their time together and held hands casually. It had taken years for Shiva to admit to herself that she’d been in love with her. It was so cliché: a young queer in love with her best friend.
Come to think of it, these two friendships were incredibly comparable. The weird jealousy, softened by years of therapy, still lingered between Shiva and Ray. The fear of change and losing her person. Her willingness to do whatever it took to make her friend happy.
Oh, fuck, the voice in Shiva’s head practically screamed. Was she in love with Ray?
If Shiva had thought she’d been scared to tell Ray that she was moving, she didn’t know what to call how she felt about telling Ray that she was in love with them. She’d have to settle for “terrified.” How the hell was she supposed to tell her best friend she was in love with them? Shiva had only ever said “I’m in love with you” to a handful of people, and even then she’d only really meant it a couple of times. It had been so long since she’d been in love – at least two lifetimes ago. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t recognized the feeling at first. But now that she knew she was in love, she couldn’t stop seeing it everywhere. Obviously, she was in love with Ray. The signs were everywhere. In the comfort she felt when she was with them; almost a feeling of complete satiation. In the sheer joy she got when she made them smile. In the jealousy - subdued, but present. In the way they’d both grown, and how they’d only grown closer to each other.
All the times Shiva had ever said “I love you,” she’d only ever been rejected once. That had been when she’d first tested the waters of love, seeing if it might be for her. She’d been so excited to fall in love that first time, and she’d tried it out a couple of times before it had actually stuck. The rejection had been years ago, but its sting still lingered. She was terrified that Ray
would reject her. At least she’d be moving soon, she thought. If Ray did reject her, she might not ever have to see them again. She probably still would though. Keeping Ray in her life was the most important thing to her, no matter whether it was romantically or platonically.
With just a matter of days separating Shiva from New Mexico, she was running out of time to tell Ray. That is, if she was even going to tell them. She still hadn’t quite decided what she was going to do, though deep down she knew she was going to do it. At the end of the day, she wasn’t going to sit with the thought What if I had told them? for the rest of her life.
The morning after Shiva’s graduation – a small, short affair in which she and Jake, who graduated with her, were showered with compliments while eating cake – Ray came over first thing to help her pack. She didn’t own much, but had successfully procrastinated boxing her belongings until the week of her move. Ray had come over every day since she started packing
to help.
The only things remaining in Shiva’s apartment two days before she left were her clothing, the furniture that belonged to the hospital, and some assorted dishes and toiletries she would wait to pack the day of the move. She loved when Ray came over but especially needed their help taking her mattress topper off the hospital-provided bed. She’d tried to get it done on her own, but had been unsuccessful, obviously.
“Pull your side a little harder,” Ray said, their face strained with effort as they held their own side tight. Shiva grunted, pulling as hard as she could to get the mattress topper around the curve of the mattress.
“I said pull, damnit!” Ray said, too serious for Shiva to take seriously. She laughed, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be pulling. She let go of the mattress topper. The slack she’d been holding onto flew towards Ray, sending them stumbling backward. That only made Shiva laugh harder. Luckily, when Ray got back to their feet, Shiva saw their eyes crinkled in laughter, too.
Shiva flopped on the bed, still laughing. Ray joined her there, just inches away. They were so close that Shiva almost didn’t turn her head to look at them. She did, though. Upon seeing Ray’s face so close to hers, a jolt of electricity ricocheted through her stomach. It climbed its way up her chest, where it transformed and came up her throat –
“I love you,” Shiva told Ray. Their eyes widened, and Shiva felt the jolt of electricity barrel back down into her stomach. Oh, god, she thought. What had she –
“I love you, too,” Ray said.
They let the moment settle, the two of them laying next to each other in perfect silence. Ray’s face still smiled back at her. She brought her hand to stroke their cheek, giving in to the desire for further intimacy. Ray’s skin was soft, the curve of their jaw easy for Shiva’s fingers to slide over. Their face was perfect. She moved her face closer to theirs a centimeter at a time. They met halfway, their lips pressing together in a kiss that stopped Shiva’s heart.
They stayed like that together for a couple of minutes, kissing and giggling and touching each other wherever they could. Shiva had to stop to catch her breath when they were done.
“So,” she said, sitting up, “what now?’
Ray joined her sitting on the bed, sliding their hand onto Shiva’s lap.
“Didn’t you want to get started on your closet?” they asked.
“No, I mean with us!”
Ray laughed. Shiva smiled and raised her hand to their face again, cupping their cheeks and the joy they contained.
“Well, what do you want to happen?” they said.
“More of this, ideally.”
“Well, then I’ll come to visit.”
“I bet you say that to all the inpatient therapeutic patients you’ve met.”
“No, I mean it. Look, I was going to come to visit you anyways. I was looking at tickets for next month, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“That’s not presumptuous, that’s really sweet. Obviously, I want you to come to visit. How does the last weekend in September sound?”
“I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
They fell back into giggling and kissing again. Shiva pulled away first, her brain moving faster than her lips possibly could.
“Let’s book the tickets,” she said. “I can’t leave without knowing when I’m going to see you next.”
“Don’t worry,” Ray said, “I promise, you won’t be alone there for long.”
Shiva was preparing to tell Ray that she was leaving her therapy program. There was still much to figure out – Shiva’s job was only part-time and she needed proof of enrollment in an outpatient treatment plan before she could graduate – but they’d decided on one major thing. In just a few short weeks, Shiva would be moving to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The move still didn’t feel real to Shiva. She was used to discussing everything with Ray before anyone else, even Askale. At least, everything that had happened over the last nine-odd months, which wasn’t much. Still. It had been weird to talk about the move with her parents before talking about it with Ray.
Shiva didn’t call her parents often as a rule. Leaving home was the best thing she’d ever done for their relationship and the infrequent communication that had come from that only made things better. But she’d called her parents earlier that week for the first time in a month. Having already said goodbye to their eldest daughter years earlier, they were mostly unphased by her most recent relocation announcement. Honestly, Shiva thought, they’d been relieved to hear she wouldn’t be in inpatient care for much longer. That had always been their primary concern with her: that she spent too much time on her mental health and not enough time growing other parts of her life. So, she had been happy to give them a glimmer of hope that there was more to her future than endless treatments.
Now, she was facing the unprecedented event of being more nervous to talk to Ray than she’d been to talk to her parents. She’d spent all day preparing, phoning into meetings so she could clean the house, create a playlist, and generally set the vibe. The way it looked now, you’d think her apartment was going to be the location of an elaborate romantic gesture.
“Pickles,” Shiva muttered to herself and shuffled off to the kitchen. That’s what the charcuterie board was missing: pickles. Ray loved these salty miniature pickles to the point that Shiva kept them stocked in her fridge even though she couldn’t stand them. Holding her breath to keep from gagging, she scooped a spoonful into a small ceramic bowl. She hurried back to the living room and made room on the serving plate for this one final touch.
There. Now everything was all set up, and there was nothing to do but wait for Ray to drop by. Shiva settled into the couch, wishing she could smoke to calm her nerves. But she wanted to be sober for this conversation, her first major interpersonal event in nearly a year, since she’d entered her long-term inpatient therapy program.
The knock on the door startled Shiva. She’d been expecting it, but had gotten caught up in her own thoughts and had forgotten to listen to it. Ray was here. Shiva took a deep breath to steady herself and set her phone to “do not disturb.”
Within seconds of opening the door, Ray was already inside on the couch with their shoes off, ranting about their day as Shiva sat down with them.
“You won’t believe what happened at work today,” they said, their eyes on Shiva as she sat down next to them.
“Did someone get fired?” Shiva asked, trying her best to play it cool.
“How on Earth did you know that?” they asked, eyes wide.
“The only other time I’ve seen you this heated was when your boss got fired a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I came in hot.”
“Don’t apologize. I love when you come in hot. It makes me feel important.”
“Well, in that case, let me turn up the burner. It was absolutely bonkers. I can’t even tell you about it, but you know I’m going to. I – are these little pickles?”
They stopped, their entire body animated the way they got when they were telling a particularly exciting story. Ray was a rambling storyteller who used their hands to demonstrate their point. Shiva found it annoying but incredibly endearing.
“They sure are,” Shiva said, blushing slightly.
“You know me well, Rosen,” Ray said, reaching for the plate. They crunched on a pickle and went in for another, double-fisting the salty snack.
“So, what happened?” Shiva asked.
“Oh, Sera, let me tell you,” Ray said through a mouthful of pickle. Shiva wrinkled her nose without even thinking about it. “It was the middle of this meeting, right? So, suddenly this person drops off the call and then we’re put into breakout rooms without being told why or for how long. Then – ”
They broke off again, their eyes wandering around the room.
“It looks nice in here,” they said, sounding genuinely impressed. Shiva couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
“No,” Ray said, “like, it looks really nice in here. I love this song, too. Oh, no.”
“What? Is something wrong?” Shiva turned, trying to see what Ray had seen to make them say “oh, no.”
“No, but that’s exactly it. It’s perfect in here. Like someone reached inside my head and pulled out my ideal night in. Is that a lavender candle?”
It was, indeed, a lavender candle. Shiva had taken great care to pick one out on her grocery trip earlier that day, knowing it was Ray’s favorite scent.
“Yeah, you must be rubbing off on me.” Play it cool, Rosen.
“What, are you going to propose to me or something?” Ray said with a grin.
“What?” Shiva felt her face turn bright red. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m just fucking with you. What’s going on?”
Another deep breath to steady her nerves.
“I need to tell you something.” She couldn’t meet Ray’s eyes. Fuck, why was this so hard? What was she scared was going to happen? Whoa, don’t open that door.
“Are you okay? You’re starting to freak me out. You’re not, like, dying, right?”
“Oh, god, no. Sorry, nothing like that.”
“Then what?"
“So, I’ve been here nine months. Well, almost ten. My program is long. But I’m eligible for graduation soon – ”
“Wait, you’re graduating? Holy crap, Shiva, that’s so incredible. Congratulations! I know you thought you had a couple of months left.”
Shiva nodded.
“I did. I mean, I thought I did. But I talked about it with my therapist and she said I’ve been moving at a faster pace than I’d thought.”
“Graduation! This is so exciting. I’m so proud of you. How much longer until you’re done?”
“Just a couple of weeks.”
Shiva could have sworn she saw a glimmer of devastation cross Ray’s face. She saw it in the crease between their eyebrows, in the quiver of their slightly open mouth. But as quickly as the expression appeared, it melted into a warm smile.
“Oh my god, wow. I know how hard you’ve worked for this and for so long,” they said. “We’ll have to plan something special. I know the facility doesn’t allow residential parties, but I bet we could sneak up to the roof or something. Not that the two of us would be a party, per se, but we could dress up and drink cider or something.”
“That sounds really nice, Ray.” Shiva met their smile with one of her own. Ray frowned in response.
“Oh god, what’s wrong now?” They asked. “Fuck, you really are dying aren’t you? Because if you lied to me about this, I swear to every god –, ”
“I’m leaving Jersey,” Shiva blurted. Ray looked stunned.
“Well, duh. I mean, I love it here and all, but it feels like a worse version of sticking around after you’re done with school. There’s nothing else in this town but the hospital.”
Ray laughed. Their deep brown eyes crinkled and their short black hair – freshly buzzed for the summer-bristled as they threw their head back, revealing the soft skin of their neck.
“Oh my god. Of course, you’re leaving, Sera. Come on. The only question is where. Oooh, where are you going? I’m shutting up now. Go. Tell me. I can’t wait to hear.”
“Santa Fe,” Shiva said shortly. Ray was rubbing her the wrong way, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. What did they mean, of course?
“New Mexico?” Ray asked. “Oh my god, Shiva, you’re literally making your dreams come true. That’s incredible.”
Shiva smiled in spite of herself. She didn’t know what she’d expected from Ray, but this had not been it. Had she expected tears? Anger? By all measures, Ray was reacting positively to this news, but Shiva was far from content.
Why aren’t they asking you to stay? a little voice in the back of her head asked. She tapped her phone, wondering if she’d turned it off silent by accident. She hadn’t, and, incidentally, she had no new messages.
“Thank you,” she said, forcing the thought out of her mind on her own. Ray, however, beamed at her.
“Absolutely, of course. I love you, dude. I can’t wait for both of us to get out of here. Come on, let’s celebrate! Pickles all around!”
They’d forgotten that Shiva didn’t like tiny pickles, that she only bought them for Ray’s sake. She picked one up anyway.
The longer Shiva was in treatment, the easier it was. Maybe that was the point. With just a few weeks left, her program was the easiest it had ever been. Maybe it would be even easier by the time she graduated.
She’d done her homework on Ray for this session. Not just Ray, but her whole ordeal telling them that she was moving. It wasn’t the first time she’d analyzed an interpersonal experience with Ray in front of the rest of her program (how many interpersonal conflicts did she really have going on anyway?), but it might be the last. When Julie, the session’s leader, asked for someone to share their work with the room, Shiva volunteered. How many more times would she get to do that?
The learning module this week was all about recognizing and validating emotion. This was the second time Shiva had gone through the module, but the whole point of the repeating curriculum was that you got a couple of different opportunities to learn as much as possible. As soon as Shiva was done going through her worksheet, Jake raised his hand. He was the
only person who’d been in the program longer than Shiva. He was rounding the corner on a year in treatment. Shiva wondered if she’d end up graduating before him.
“What’s the emotion you identified?” he asked point-blank. Shiva frowned and scanned back over her worksheet.
“Contentment,” she said discontentedly.
“It doesn’t sound like contentment,” he countered. “In fact, you don’t sound resolved with this at all.”
Nothing in Shiva’s notes indicated to her that she was unresolved. Telling Ray had, on paper, gone absolutely as well as it could have gone. There had been no tears, no yelling, no weird icing out. There was no reason for her to be anything but content.
“Why didn’t they ask you to stay?” the voice in the back of her head asked. This time, Shiva recognized it as her own.
“I guess,” she said slowly, figuring out what she was saying as she was saying it, “it went well, but I’m disappointed.”
Jake nodded empathetically. The rest of the room had their eyes glued on her, waiting to hear what she would say next. Only Shiva didn’t know what she was going to say.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed,” Jake finally said. He really had that validating emotions thing down. The rest of the group’s eyes stayed locked on Shiva, telling her to go on.
“I mean,” she went on, “I was just so nervous to tell them, I went out of my way to make the space really nice. I set it all up and they loved everything I did. Everything went just fine. But there’s part of me that wanted them to react differently.”
“Were you hoping they’d give you a reason to get mad?” one of the newer members (Shira, Shiva remembered later) who clearly had just learned about self-sabotage asked. Shiva shook her head.
“No, I feel comfortable in my relationship with anger,” she said, showing off her “program speak.” I know more than you, she may as well have said.
“What did you want from them, then?” Julie gently prodded. Shiva had shared everything with this group – the murky past, the clarity of the present, the hopes and dreams of the future. No one had ever met her honesty with judgment. That was so rare, she thought. She wouldn’t have this forum in all its soft glory forever.
“I wish they’d asked me to stay,” she said quietly. She looked around, hoping no one had heard. Maybe she’d get away with being honest without a crowd. Alas, the room was still listening.
“Have you thought about doing long distance?” someone so new Shiva didn’t know their name or pronouns asked. Shiva laughed in spite of herself.
“Long-distance what?” she asked playfully, though she already knew the answer.
“Well, a long-distance relationship,” the same newbie said, their confidence visibly shrinking. “My boyfriend lives back home in Missouri and we’re doing long distance while I’m here.”
“We’re not dating,” Shiva said, taking care to not reveal Ray’s identity by name. The group followed a strict anonymous policy, which got to be a little ridiculous when it came to their interpersonal work. They were all living, working, and attending therapy in the same two buildings. She felt like a university student, hiding her latest hookup from her dorm mates, something she’d never actually done.
The newbie blushed, a blotchy red highlighting the freckles across their cheeks.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” they said. “I just thought – ”
“It’s totally fine,” Shiva said with a smile. It wasn’t the first time a stranger had thought she and Ray were dating. “I mean, do I love them? Of course, they’re my best friend. Am I attracted to them? Sure, they’re objectively hot. But we’re not, like, in love or anything.”
“That sounds like love to me,” Jake said. He was the only one who could have gotten away with saying that and he knew it. Shiva chuckled, expecting someone (anyone) else to join in with her.
She laughed alone. Suddenly, she felt the need to defend herself.
“No, yeah, we absolutely love each other. Like, I do love them. But we’re not in love,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. Why did people always think she and Ray were a couple? She wanted to claim homophobia, but she knew Jake was queer, too.
When Shiva had been much younger, with a different name and home, she’d been in a friendship like this where everyone had thought they were dating. It didn’t help that she used to fuck her friends like it was a prerequisite for friendship. She had never dated this friend, but everyone assumed they were dating because they spent all their time together and held hands casually. It had taken years for Shiva to admit to herself that she’d been in love with her. It was so cliché: a young queer in love with her best friend.
Come to think of it, these two friendships were incredibly comparable. The weird jealousy, softened by years of therapy, still lingered between Shiva and Ray. The fear of change and losing her person. Her willingness to do whatever it took to make her friend happy.
Oh, fuck, the voice in Shiva’s head practically screamed. Was she in love with Ray?
If Shiva had thought she’d been scared to tell Ray that she was moving, she didn’t know what to call how she felt about telling Ray that she was in love with them. She’d have to settle for “terrified.” How the hell was she supposed to tell her best friend she was in love with them? Shiva had only ever said “I’m in love with you” to a handful of people, and even then she’d only really meant it a couple of times. It had been so long since she’d been in love – at least two lifetimes ago. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t recognized the feeling at first. But now that she knew she was in love, she couldn’t stop seeing it everywhere. Obviously, she was in love with Ray. The signs were everywhere. In the comfort she felt when she was with them; almost a feeling of complete satiation. In the sheer joy she got when she made them smile. In the jealousy - subdued, but present. In the way they’d both grown, and how they’d only grown closer to each other.
All the times Shiva had ever said “I love you,” she’d only ever been rejected once. That had been when she’d first tested the waters of love, seeing if it might be for her. She’d been so excited to fall in love that first time, and she’d tried it out a couple of times before it had actually stuck. The rejection had been years ago, but its sting still lingered. She was terrified that Ray
would reject her. At least she’d be moving soon, she thought. If Ray did reject her, she might not ever have to see them again. She probably still would though. Keeping Ray in her life was the most important thing to her, no matter whether it was romantically or platonically.
With just a matter of days separating Shiva from New Mexico, she was running out of time to tell Ray. That is, if she was even going to tell them. She still hadn’t quite decided what she was going to do, though deep down she knew she was going to do it. At the end of the day, she wasn’t going to sit with the thought What if I had told them? for the rest of her life.
The morning after Shiva’s graduation – a small, short affair in which she and Jake, who graduated with her, were showered with compliments while eating cake – Ray came over first thing to help her pack. She didn’t own much, but had successfully procrastinated boxing her belongings until the week of her move. Ray had come over every day since she started packing
to help.
The only things remaining in Shiva’s apartment two days before she left were her clothing, the furniture that belonged to the hospital, and some assorted dishes and toiletries she would wait to pack the day of the move. She loved when Ray came over but especially needed their help taking her mattress topper off the hospital-provided bed. She’d tried to get it done on her own, but had been unsuccessful, obviously.
“Pull your side a little harder,” Ray said, their face strained with effort as they held their own side tight. Shiva grunted, pulling as hard as she could to get the mattress topper around the curve of the mattress.
“I said pull, damnit!” Ray said, too serious for Shiva to take seriously. She laughed, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be pulling. She let go of the mattress topper. The slack she’d been holding onto flew towards Ray, sending them stumbling backward. That only made Shiva laugh harder. Luckily, when Ray got back to their feet, Shiva saw their eyes crinkled in laughter, too.
Shiva flopped on the bed, still laughing. Ray joined her there, just inches away. They were so close that Shiva almost didn’t turn her head to look at them. She did, though. Upon seeing Ray’s face so close to hers, a jolt of electricity ricocheted through her stomach. It climbed its way up her chest, where it transformed and came up her throat –
“I love you,” Shiva told Ray. Their eyes widened, and Shiva felt the jolt of electricity barrel back down into her stomach. Oh, god, she thought. What had she –
“I love you, too,” Ray said.
They let the moment settle, the two of them laying next to each other in perfect silence. Ray’s face still smiled back at her. She brought her hand to stroke their cheek, giving in to the desire for further intimacy. Ray’s skin was soft, the curve of their jaw easy for Shiva’s fingers to slide over. Their face was perfect. She moved her face closer to theirs a centimeter at a time. They met halfway, their lips pressing together in a kiss that stopped Shiva’s heart.
They stayed like that together for a couple of minutes, kissing and giggling and touching each other wherever they could. Shiva had to stop to catch her breath when they were done.
“So,” she said, sitting up, “what now?’
Ray joined her sitting on the bed, sliding their hand onto Shiva’s lap.
“Didn’t you want to get started on your closet?” they asked.
“No, I mean with us!”
Ray laughed. Shiva smiled and raised her hand to their face again, cupping their cheeks and the joy they contained.
“Well, what do you want to happen?” they said.
“More of this, ideally.”
“Well, then I’ll come to visit.”
“I bet you say that to all the inpatient therapeutic patients you’ve met.”
“No, I mean it. Look, I was going to come to visit you anyways. I was looking at tickets for next month, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“That’s not presumptuous, that’s really sweet. Obviously, I want you to come to visit. How does the last weekend in September sound?”
“I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
They fell back into giggling and kissing again. Shiva pulled away first, her brain moving faster than her lips possibly could.
“Let’s book the tickets,” she said. “I can’t leave without knowing when I’m going to see you next.”
“Don’t worry,” Ray said, “I promise, you won’t be alone there for long.”
Astoria In Love
by Hannah Goldstein
Astoria didn’t know what she was going to do in two months. She didn’t want to have to think about what she was going to do in two months. She had through the end of her graduation planned down to the hour, but after that, nothing.
“That’s not uncommon for people your age,” Andrea, who was exactly ten years older than Astoria and constantly saying shit like that, said. “When I was graduating from college, I had no clue what the hell I was going to do. Hell, I still don’t know what I want to do.”
It was goals week in her therapy group; a week when everyone had to talk about what they wanted out of life and how they were going to achieve it. As it turned out, that was hard for a group of people who all regularly dealt with suicidal ideation. They’d all just spent the last ninety minutes admitting that none of them knew what they wanted to do with their lives. Andrea’s voice hinted that maybe she thought she was special, not having a life plan. In this room, she wasn’t.
“I’m still taking things month by month,” James, an enthusiastic group member with kids Astoria’s age, said.
“It takes time to transition,” Omar across the table assured her.
Astoria appreciated their kindness, but her fellow group members didn’t seem to understand. She had a fine grasp on her future. She and her girlfriend August were going to live in New England, raise their kids Jewish, and travel a lot. This long-term plan was something they each wanted of their own accord. They were both lucky to be with someone else who wanted the same things they wanted, they knew.
So, it wasn’t that Astoria didn’t know what she was going to do with her life. She knew exactly what she was going to do with her life. Just one year stood between her and those plans. What the hell was she going to do for a whole year while she waited for August to graduate?
No one in her group understood. She was the youngest there by two or three years. “It’s so incredible that you’re here at twenty-two,” people said. “When I was your age, I was nowhere near ready to commit to recovery.” She was used to people saying things like that to her. It sounded arrogant, but it was true. Ever since she started reading at three, adults had been telling her how mature she was for her age. Now she was an adult herself and still being told that. At a certain point, being old at heart would no longer be an advantage.
Nor did she expect her group to understand. She was lucky to have met the love of her life so young, to be in recovery so young. It was an experience that most people didn’t have, and she knew better than to expect those around her to understand what they did not know.
She let the conversation turn from her to Arty, a man her parents’ age who was going through a divorce. He had also met his now-ex early on in his life, but that had been thirty years and a whole lot of therapy ago. A lot had changed since he was in high school courting his future ex-wife.
“I’m having to examine my entire life,” he said. “We’re splitting up friends, our possessions, everything. I’m choosing which parts of my life I want to fight to keep. It raises the question: how much of my life do I enjoy because it’s what I know, and how much of my life do I genuinely like? It’s made setting short-term and long-term goals alike very difficult.”
Arty’s voice rang in Astoria’s head as she boarded the trolley home and found a seat. How much of her life did she enjoy, and how much of it was just familiar?
Astoria had learned his last year that one of the most important factors in recovery was building a life worth living. At twenty-two in the middle of a four-year college program, she didn’t exactly have a lot of autonomy to make changes even if they were necessary. But there was a lot to love in her life. She loved August and Cordelia. She loved Pacifica, even though it was always raining and got dark in the winter at four pm. She loved the natural blonde streaks in her hair, the freckles across her nose, her otherwise clear skin.
There was also a lot she didn’t love in her life, though. School was killing her, and her editor position was hanging on by a thread as she was behind a full month on editing submissions. She’d quit her job, quit her work-study, and filled those hours with therapy group meetings. Not that she didn’t love these meetings---they were quintessential in getting herself back on her feet. But she’d been in the program for nearly a year now and had already done every section that it had to offer. She knew it was beneficial to review, to practice. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
Things would change soon. Soon, she would be done with school. If she had it her way, she’d be done with school forever. And who said she couldn’t have it her way? She was ready and eager to start her career. She’d been ready for that stage of her life for years now. Soon, it would be a reality, no longer a fuzzy future idea.
The trolley slammed to a halt, nearly throwing Astoria from her seat. She hadn’t grown up in an area with public transportation but had quickly become a pro. She was a city girl at heart. She may not have known what her and August’s next city would be, but she was excited to live there. Maybe they’d go to Boston, the floating city, and she’d learn to ride the train underwater. Maybe they’d go to Philadelphia and adapt to the complex – but efficient – bus system there.
August had even talked about getting a job with the UN one day. Astoria would love to live in New York, home to the best public transit system in the country. She’d already applied to a couple of internships there in years past, though to no avail.
Now it was Astoria’s stop, and she raised her hood to protect her from the rain outside. A wave of exhaustion hit as she jumped from the trolley to the sidewalk. She’d been out of the house for nearly ten hours and was ready to get home and snuggle her cat. Selfishly, she hoped she would get to be home alone to decompress.
“Hey, babe,” August called when Astoria walked through the door to their apartment.
“Hey,” Astoria said, looking around for her girlfriend. August’s voice sounded far away, like she was calling from outside their home. Cordelia ran down the stairs, her claws skidding across the hardwood floor as she hit the ground and kept running until she reached Astoria’s open arms. August followed shortly behind her.
“How was your day?” August asked, embracing Astoria and giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.
“Fine,” Astoria said. “How was yours?”
“It was ok,” August said, releasing Astoria. Astoria began unloading her day’s equipment onto the chair in their narrow entryway. Off came her backpack, her tote bag with her scarf, hat, and gloves, her raincoat and the puffer underneath it, her slightly damp shoes. When she was finally free of the weight on her back, she turned back to August, who was now holding Cordelia in her arms and kissed her.
August did not kiss back. Her lips remained limp, unyielding to Astoria’s eager touch. She’d been doing this lately: meeting Astoria’s affection with a display of indifference. August usually laughed as Astoria protested, pouting until August kissed her or hugged her or held her hand back. Tonight, Astoria simply drew away at the feel of stillness on August’s mouth. August let her without objection.
“Why just ok?” Astoria said, plucking the cat from August’s arms and cradling her in her own. “What did you do today?”
“I just had a hard day at school,” August answered. “My undergrads were really giving me a hard time in my first class, and – ”
“Can we go sit down?” Astoria cut in. Her back ached, having transported her throughout the day with minimal rest. “Sorry, my back just hurts.”
August nodded.
“Sure,” she said. “Come on, let’s go to the couch.”
August and Astoria’s living room had a two-person couch and a bean bag in the corner. The couch took up most of the room. They lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in a complex built early on in Pacifica’s rise as a city, constructed with the intention of fitting as many people in as small a building as possible. To this day, they could still hear every word their neighbors spoke from their bedrooms.
Neither August nor Astoria minded the size of their home. That just made the space cozier, Astoria liked to say when the string lights were plugged in and the candles were all lit. Tonight, though, the room felt dark and cold. Astoria was done with spring and ready for summer with months still left to go. She hated how empty and claustrophobic the space felt.
“Sorry, I interrupted you,” Astoria said when they sat down next to each other on the couch. “You were talking about your undergrads.”
Silence hit the room – just for a second, but long enough for Astoria’s stomach to curdle. Suddenly the world around her was dissolving, wiping away the very ground beneath her. Just for a second, she couldn’t breathe. Her chest grew so tight she feared it might snap. She would burst through her collarbone, splitting herself open and revealing the disgusting mess of sinew and bones within her.
“Are you ok?” August asked.
“I’m fine,” Astoria said with a nod. “Just anxiety.”
“Oh no, do you want to go lay down?”
“No, really, I’m ok. Just beating back anxious thoughts. I’ll be ok.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally. Come on, let’s chat. How was your day?”
“Astoria, I actually need to talk to you about something.”
The warm blood furiously rushing through Astoria froze over. The world outside seemed to have frozen, too. She imagined getting up, poking at a fly stuck in the air, looking outside at the finally still street below her. She’d been given one final moment, one last second of blissful ignorance. Before she could do something to take advantage of it, everything buzzed back to life. Astoria’s now-flowing blood rang faintly in her ears.
“Is everything ok?” Astoria asked, knowing the answer but hoping for any other response. A lie, even. Something to keep her world static.
“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” August answered. A twist – this was not what Astoria had anticipated. Then –
“I’m not really sure how to bring this up,” August continued.
“You know you can tell me anything,” Astoria said, though she could feel her teeth trying to chatter.
“This next year,” August said, “are you staying here because you want to?”
“Of course I want to,” Astoria said without thinking.
“Are you sure? I mean, wouldn’t you rather go out and start your life? Move away from your college town and get going with your career instead of waiting around here for an extra year?”
“Well, that’s silly. Why would I move without you when I could just wait a year?”
August sighed. That was the moment Astoria knew.
“Why do you ask?” Astoria asked, forcing the words out though she thought she might throw up.
“I just don’t want you to make any decisions based on me,” August said, her eyes shining through a coat of tears.
“Well, of course, I’m making decisions based on you. That’s how we get to our future together.”
Astoria paused, waiting for August to say literally anything but what she knew she wanted to say. August stayed silent, looking down at her hands in her lap.
“I mean,” Astoria continued desperately, “don’t you make decisions off of me?”
August looked up at her silently. She didn’t need to say anything. Astoria knew.
“August?” Astoria tried again.
August took a deep breath and looked up at Astoria. She saw the sheen had disappeared from August’s eyes. They were staring, a matted tangle of ocean and sky, back at her.
“I just feel like we’ve been drifting apart,” August said.
Drifting apart? What did that even mean? They lived together. They spent most of their time
outside of school and treatment together. Astoria had just gone with her to see her grandparents
down in Oregon. Were they not having sex enough? Astoria always worried that she said “no”
too often, though August always assured her it was fine. Was she lying?
“Drifting apart how?” Astoria said. Her ears had started to ring. It was making it hard to hear
what August was saying, the six inches between them on the couch feeling like miles.
“A still pear, a boot,” she thought she heard August say.
“What?” she asked, rubbing one of her ears.
“I mean, of course, I’ll always care about you,” August said a little louder. “You’re my best friend, Astoria.”
“You’re my best friend,” Astoria said quietly.
“I just think we need to take a break,” August said.
“For how long?” Astoria heard herself say without thinking.
Now it was August’s turn to say, “what?”
“Like, a month, to cool off? Take some time apart?”
August awkwardly cleared her throat.
“Astoria,” she said, “like, break up.”
Something cold hit the middle of Astoria’s chest and began to spread, crawling to the very tips of her fingers and numbing her whole body.
“Is there someone else?” she said reflexively.
“Someone else? No, of course not,” August said. “That’s good, though. Asking questions, I mean. You deserve to ask questions if you have them.”
Astoria had nothing else to say. What else could she possibly say? If August wanted to break up with her, there was nothing she could do to stop her.
“Do you?” August asked. “Have any questions?”
“Where am I going to sleep tonight?” Astoria asked.
“Here,” August said. “Oh, god, I’d never do that to you. I’m going to sleep at Colin’s for a bit while I find another place to live.”
She was moving out? Instinctively, Astoria pulled Cordelia tight. She couldn’t have both members of her little family leave her at the same time.
“Cordy’s staying here with you,” August said quickly. “Everything is. Until you leave at the end of next month. I’ve worked it out with the building’s board, your rent will stay the same through then.”
August looked proud of herself for being so kind to her ex-girlfriend and planning so far in advance to take care of her. All Astoria could think about was how far in advance she’d planned this out.
“How long have you been thinking about doing this?” Astoria asked.
“A few months,” August said. Astoria worked to stop her jaw from dropping. August had been working up to leave her for months?
“Last month, when we went down to Oregon,” Astoria said, “you were thinking about breaking up with me?”
“No,” August said. “I mean, yes, but not like that. I was thinking about it, but I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to. I love you so much, Astoria.”
Astoria stared back at her ex-girlfriend silently.
“You’re my best friend,” August said. “I don’t ever want that to change.”
“But you’re breaking up with me,” Astoria said. How could August love her but not want to be with her anymore? What the hell had changed in the last couple of months that had pushed them apart, forcing August to this conclusion.
“I still don’t want to stop being best friends,” August said. “No matter what, I still want to maintain that relationship.”
“But you’re breaking up with me,” Astoria repeated. “You want to be my best friend, but you also want to leave.”
“Of course I still want to be your best friend,” August said. “You’re the most important person in my life. I can’t just give that up all of a sudden.”
“Go, then,” Astoria said. “If you’re going to leave, just go.”
“Astoria, I – "
“Please.”
“Ok,” August said, looking back down at her hands. “I have everything packed upstairs. I’ll get my stuff.”
No matter what Astoria said, August had planned on leaving. She’d known even before they sat down to talk. She’d known for months. That, more than anything, hurt Astoria to her very core.
Astoria sat in the living room in the dark for hours, alone save Cordelia darting in and out of the room. Her wrist was set to “do not disturb” so she could truly be by herself. She’d tried to make herself dinner at one point, but the kitchen was simultaneously full of August and suddenly devoid of her. Astoria couldn’t handle it either way and settled for a bag of chocolate chips.
Around midnight, she got up, locked the front door, and headed upstairs, where she flopped down on the bed still in her clothes. What did it matter? August was no longer there to chide her for wearing her outside clothes on their duvet. Fuck. Not their duvet anymore. Not theirs, but also not hers. She started sobbing and pushed the stupid blanket off the bed as hard as she could.
She stayed there, crying and crying, until she fell asleep in the fetal position. Cordelia curled up into her stomach and slept there with her until the morning.
“That’s not uncommon for people your age,” Andrea, who was exactly ten years older than Astoria and constantly saying shit like that, said. “When I was graduating from college, I had no clue what the hell I was going to do. Hell, I still don’t know what I want to do.”
It was goals week in her therapy group; a week when everyone had to talk about what they wanted out of life and how they were going to achieve it. As it turned out, that was hard for a group of people who all regularly dealt with suicidal ideation. They’d all just spent the last ninety minutes admitting that none of them knew what they wanted to do with their lives. Andrea’s voice hinted that maybe she thought she was special, not having a life plan. In this room, she wasn’t.
“I’m still taking things month by month,” James, an enthusiastic group member with kids Astoria’s age, said.
“It takes time to transition,” Omar across the table assured her.
Astoria appreciated their kindness, but her fellow group members didn’t seem to understand. She had a fine grasp on her future. She and her girlfriend August were going to live in New England, raise their kids Jewish, and travel a lot. This long-term plan was something they each wanted of their own accord. They were both lucky to be with someone else who wanted the same things they wanted, they knew.
So, it wasn’t that Astoria didn’t know what she was going to do with her life. She knew exactly what she was going to do with her life. Just one year stood between her and those plans. What the hell was she going to do for a whole year while she waited for August to graduate?
No one in her group understood. She was the youngest there by two or three years. “It’s so incredible that you’re here at twenty-two,” people said. “When I was your age, I was nowhere near ready to commit to recovery.” She was used to people saying things like that to her. It sounded arrogant, but it was true. Ever since she started reading at three, adults had been telling her how mature she was for her age. Now she was an adult herself and still being told that. At a certain point, being old at heart would no longer be an advantage.
Nor did she expect her group to understand. She was lucky to have met the love of her life so young, to be in recovery so young. It was an experience that most people didn’t have, and she knew better than to expect those around her to understand what they did not know.
She let the conversation turn from her to Arty, a man her parents’ age who was going through a divorce. He had also met his now-ex early on in his life, but that had been thirty years and a whole lot of therapy ago. A lot had changed since he was in high school courting his future ex-wife.
“I’m having to examine my entire life,” he said. “We’re splitting up friends, our possessions, everything. I’m choosing which parts of my life I want to fight to keep. It raises the question: how much of my life do I enjoy because it’s what I know, and how much of my life do I genuinely like? It’s made setting short-term and long-term goals alike very difficult.”
Arty’s voice rang in Astoria’s head as she boarded the trolley home and found a seat. How much of her life did she enjoy, and how much of it was just familiar?
Astoria had learned his last year that one of the most important factors in recovery was building a life worth living. At twenty-two in the middle of a four-year college program, she didn’t exactly have a lot of autonomy to make changes even if they were necessary. But there was a lot to love in her life. She loved August and Cordelia. She loved Pacifica, even though it was always raining and got dark in the winter at four pm. She loved the natural blonde streaks in her hair, the freckles across her nose, her otherwise clear skin.
There was also a lot she didn’t love in her life, though. School was killing her, and her editor position was hanging on by a thread as she was behind a full month on editing submissions. She’d quit her job, quit her work-study, and filled those hours with therapy group meetings. Not that she didn’t love these meetings---they were quintessential in getting herself back on her feet. But she’d been in the program for nearly a year now and had already done every section that it had to offer. She knew it was beneficial to review, to practice. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
Things would change soon. Soon, she would be done with school. If she had it her way, she’d be done with school forever. And who said she couldn’t have it her way? She was ready and eager to start her career. She’d been ready for that stage of her life for years now. Soon, it would be a reality, no longer a fuzzy future idea.
The trolley slammed to a halt, nearly throwing Astoria from her seat. She hadn’t grown up in an area with public transportation but had quickly become a pro. She was a city girl at heart. She may not have known what her and August’s next city would be, but she was excited to live there. Maybe they’d go to Boston, the floating city, and she’d learn to ride the train underwater. Maybe they’d go to Philadelphia and adapt to the complex – but efficient – bus system there.
August had even talked about getting a job with the UN one day. Astoria would love to live in New York, home to the best public transit system in the country. She’d already applied to a couple of internships there in years past, though to no avail.
Now it was Astoria’s stop, and she raised her hood to protect her from the rain outside. A wave of exhaustion hit as she jumped from the trolley to the sidewalk. She’d been out of the house for nearly ten hours and was ready to get home and snuggle her cat. Selfishly, she hoped she would get to be home alone to decompress.
“Hey, babe,” August called when Astoria walked through the door to their apartment.
“Hey,” Astoria said, looking around for her girlfriend. August’s voice sounded far away, like she was calling from outside their home. Cordelia ran down the stairs, her claws skidding across the hardwood floor as she hit the ground and kept running until she reached Astoria’s open arms. August followed shortly behind her.
“How was your day?” August asked, embracing Astoria and giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.
“Fine,” Astoria said. “How was yours?”
“It was ok,” August said, releasing Astoria. Astoria began unloading her day’s equipment onto the chair in their narrow entryway. Off came her backpack, her tote bag with her scarf, hat, and gloves, her raincoat and the puffer underneath it, her slightly damp shoes. When she was finally free of the weight on her back, she turned back to August, who was now holding Cordelia in her arms and kissed her.
August did not kiss back. Her lips remained limp, unyielding to Astoria’s eager touch. She’d been doing this lately: meeting Astoria’s affection with a display of indifference. August usually laughed as Astoria protested, pouting until August kissed her or hugged her or held her hand back. Tonight, Astoria simply drew away at the feel of stillness on August’s mouth. August let her without objection.
“Why just ok?” Astoria said, plucking the cat from August’s arms and cradling her in her own. “What did you do today?”
“I just had a hard day at school,” August answered. “My undergrads were really giving me a hard time in my first class, and – ”
“Can we go sit down?” Astoria cut in. Her back ached, having transported her throughout the day with minimal rest. “Sorry, my back just hurts.”
August nodded.
“Sure,” she said. “Come on, let’s go to the couch.”
August and Astoria’s living room had a two-person couch and a bean bag in the corner. The couch took up most of the room. They lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in a complex built early on in Pacifica’s rise as a city, constructed with the intention of fitting as many people in as small a building as possible. To this day, they could still hear every word their neighbors spoke from their bedrooms.
Neither August nor Astoria minded the size of their home. That just made the space cozier, Astoria liked to say when the string lights were plugged in and the candles were all lit. Tonight, though, the room felt dark and cold. Astoria was done with spring and ready for summer with months still left to go. She hated how empty and claustrophobic the space felt.
“Sorry, I interrupted you,” Astoria said when they sat down next to each other on the couch. “You were talking about your undergrads.”
Silence hit the room – just for a second, but long enough for Astoria’s stomach to curdle. Suddenly the world around her was dissolving, wiping away the very ground beneath her. Just for a second, she couldn’t breathe. Her chest grew so tight she feared it might snap. She would burst through her collarbone, splitting herself open and revealing the disgusting mess of sinew and bones within her.
“Are you ok?” August asked.
“I’m fine,” Astoria said with a nod. “Just anxiety.”
“Oh no, do you want to go lay down?”
“No, really, I’m ok. Just beating back anxious thoughts. I’ll be ok.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally. Come on, let’s chat. How was your day?”
“Astoria, I actually need to talk to you about something.”
The warm blood furiously rushing through Astoria froze over. The world outside seemed to have frozen, too. She imagined getting up, poking at a fly stuck in the air, looking outside at the finally still street below her. She’d been given one final moment, one last second of blissful ignorance. Before she could do something to take advantage of it, everything buzzed back to life. Astoria’s now-flowing blood rang faintly in her ears.
“Is everything ok?” Astoria asked, knowing the answer but hoping for any other response. A lie, even. Something to keep her world static.
“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” August answered. A twist – this was not what Astoria had anticipated. Then –
“I’m not really sure how to bring this up,” August continued.
“You know you can tell me anything,” Astoria said, though she could feel her teeth trying to chatter.
“This next year,” August said, “are you staying here because you want to?”
“Of course I want to,” Astoria said without thinking.
“Are you sure? I mean, wouldn’t you rather go out and start your life? Move away from your college town and get going with your career instead of waiting around here for an extra year?”
“Well, that’s silly. Why would I move without you when I could just wait a year?”
August sighed. That was the moment Astoria knew.
“Why do you ask?” Astoria asked, forcing the words out though she thought she might throw up.
“I just don’t want you to make any decisions based on me,” August said, her eyes shining through a coat of tears.
“Well, of course, I’m making decisions based on you. That’s how we get to our future together.”
Astoria paused, waiting for August to say literally anything but what she knew she wanted to say. August stayed silent, looking down at her hands in her lap.
“I mean,” Astoria continued desperately, “don’t you make decisions off of me?”
August looked up at her silently. She didn’t need to say anything. Astoria knew.
“August?” Astoria tried again.
August took a deep breath and looked up at Astoria. She saw the sheen had disappeared from August’s eyes. They were staring, a matted tangle of ocean and sky, back at her.
“I just feel like we’ve been drifting apart,” August said.
Drifting apart? What did that even mean? They lived together. They spent most of their time
outside of school and treatment together. Astoria had just gone with her to see her grandparents
down in Oregon. Were they not having sex enough? Astoria always worried that she said “no”
too often, though August always assured her it was fine. Was she lying?
“Drifting apart how?” Astoria said. Her ears had started to ring. It was making it hard to hear
what August was saying, the six inches between them on the couch feeling like miles.
“A still pear, a boot,” she thought she heard August say.
“What?” she asked, rubbing one of her ears.
“I mean, of course, I’ll always care about you,” August said a little louder. “You’re my best friend, Astoria.”
“You’re my best friend,” Astoria said quietly.
“I just think we need to take a break,” August said.
“For how long?” Astoria heard herself say without thinking.
Now it was August’s turn to say, “what?”
“Like, a month, to cool off? Take some time apart?”
August awkwardly cleared her throat.
“Astoria,” she said, “like, break up.”
Something cold hit the middle of Astoria’s chest and began to spread, crawling to the very tips of her fingers and numbing her whole body.
“Is there someone else?” she said reflexively.
“Someone else? No, of course not,” August said. “That’s good, though. Asking questions, I mean. You deserve to ask questions if you have them.”
Astoria had nothing else to say. What else could she possibly say? If August wanted to break up with her, there was nothing she could do to stop her.
“Do you?” August asked. “Have any questions?”
“Where am I going to sleep tonight?” Astoria asked.
“Here,” August said. “Oh, god, I’d never do that to you. I’m going to sleep at Colin’s for a bit while I find another place to live.”
She was moving out? Instinctively, Astoria pulled Cordelia tight. She couldn’t have both members of her little family leave her at the same time.
“Cordy’s staying here with you,” August said quickly. “Everything is. Until you leave at the end of next month. I’ve worked it out with the building’s board, your rent will stay the same through then.”
August looked proud of herself for being so kind to her ex-girlfriend and planning so far in advance to take care of her. All Astoria could think about was how far in advance she’d planned this out.
“How long have you been thinking about doing this?” Astoria asked.
“A few months,” August said. Astoria worked to stop her jaw from dropping. August had been working up to leave her for months?
“Last month, when we went down to Oregon,” Astoria said, “you were thinking about breaking up with me?”
“No,” August said. “I mean, yes, but not like that. I was thinking about it, but I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to. I love you so much, Astoria.”
Astoria stared back at her ex-girlfriend silently.
“You’re my best friend,” August said. “I don’t ever want that to change.”
“But you’re breaking up with me,” Astoria said. How could August love her but not want to be with her anymore? What the hell had changed in the last couple of months that had pushed them apart, forcing August to this conclusion.
“I still don’t want to stop being best friends,” August said. “No matter what, I still want to maintain that relationship.”
“But you’re breaking up with me,” Astoria repeated. “You want to be my best friend, but you also want to leave.”
“Of course I still want to be your best friend,” August said. “You’re the most important person in my life. I can’t just give that up all of a sudden.”
“Go, then,” Astoria said. “If you’re going to leave, just go.”
“Astoria, I – "
“Please.”
“Ok,” August said, looking back down at her hands. “I have everything packed upstairs. I’ll get my stuff.”
No matter what Astoria said, August had planned on leaving. She’d known even before they sat down to talk. She’d known for months. That, more than anything, hurt Astoria to her very core.
Astoria sat in the living room in the dark for hours, alone save Cordelia darting in and out of the room. Her wrist was set to “do not disturb” so she could truly be by herself. She’d tried to make herself dinner at one point, but the kitchen was simultaneously full of August and suddenly devoid of her. Astoria couldn’t handle it either way and settled for a bag of chocolate chips.
Around midnight, she got up, locked the front door, and headed upstairs, where she flopped down on the bed still in her clothes. What did it matter? August was no longer there to chide her for wearing her outside clothes on their duvet. Fuck. Not their duvet anymore. Not theirs, but also not hers. She started sobbing and pushed the stupid blanket off the bed as hard as she could.
She stayed there, crying and crying, until she fell asleep in the fetal position. Cordelia curled up into her stomach and slept there with her until the morning.
Lucy Leaving
by Hannah Goldstein
Lucy self-consciously pulled at the waist of her denim shorts. They were the shortest shorts her mom had ever let her buy, and she’d only gotten away with the purchase because it had been so damn hot all summer. Global warming was no joke, and the proof was in the fires that had torn through Eastern Oregon all season, destroying more homes and property than ever.
As much as Lucy loved showing off her thighs in her new shorts, she was also uneasy in them. She’d spent the entirety of the meeting she’d just come from adjusting them, making sure they weren’t too revealing of either her stomach or legs. She’d pull them up to cover her navel, only to realize just how much leg she was baring and tug them back down. It would be easier to wear them when she finally left, away from the judgemental gaze of her mom, who had accompanied her to today’s gathering.
They’d celebrated the ambassadors’ early graduation nearly three months late. Three months had passed since her last day of school, and still, she was a week away from finally flying to Spain. Visa issues had put a nasty halt to her plans to get to Malaga early, to learn the lay of the land before her teaching position at the local technical school started. She would officially arrive three weeks into the school year. Lucy didn’t understand how she could have problems getting her visa from the government when her ambassadorship was through the same entity. There must have been some serious disconnect between departments, her mom said. Her dad had some select, much stronger words that he chose to describe the situation.
In celebrating their graduation, the government ambassadors were also celebrating their early college decisions. A month and 80 rows in her color-coded spreadsheet later, Lucy had chosen Pacifica College for the mere existence of its Art History program and its lucrative location in the newly-formed city of Pacifica. She would be back on the West Coast after living abroad, which her mom insisted would make the transition from her ambassadorship to college that much easier.
It wasn’t that Lucy wasn’t excited for the next step in her future. She was very excited about her college choice, and proud to boot. But she was having a hard time envisioning a future so different from what she’d planned. Somewhere not so far below the surface, fifteen-year-old Lucy watched on with wide eyes as she made choice after choice that steered her from her original plan. What was supposed to be finishing off high school with the classmates she’d known since she was a kid had turned into graduating early and jetting off overseas. Boston College had ended up taking her off the waitlist, but by that point, Lucy had already decided that it wasn’t the right choice for her. As much as she still wanted to study Art History and end up working at a national museum, she also recognized the benefit of having more options available to her. Boston would have required a commitment to one program, without the ability to switch if something came up. After this last year of changed plans, Lucy didn’t want to end up stuck in her child’s fantasy with no concrete way out.
She was disappointed to be staying on the West Coast for school. Though she’d applied to half a dozen schools on the East Coast, they either didn’t accept her or didn’t offer the flexibility she had recently decided she’d needed. Sitting through the meeting in which each ambassador had announced their college program one by one, she’d been left wanting for a choice a little further away. Many of her fellow students had opted for an Oregon state school, but those who didn’t had shown Lucy just how many more options had been available to her that she hadn’t taken advantage of.
But Lucy didn’t like to live with regrets. She’d worked her ass off to get to this point: leaving the US to teach abroad, coming back to a solid college program. She’d made her bed and was getting comfortable in it. Even her parents were coming around. Just last night, Lucy’s dad had come home with a box full of Pacifica merch that he’d ordered for the whole family to rep. Lucy recalled him walking around the house in his Pacifica sweatshirt the rest of the night, wearing it to eat, paint, and even sleep. Her siblings had insisted on nailing down a date for the family’s first visit, which Lucy had artfully dodged by steering the conversation to her ambassador assignment. She may be spending a year away from her family, but it was still too soon for her to think about seeing them again.
“Lucy,” she heard someone loudly whisper. She looked around trying to locate the source of the call.
“Up here,” her second-oldest sibling hissed. Lucy tilted her head up to see them leaning out of the window in her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Lucy asked. “Get out of my room.”
“Go out back,” they responded before closing the window and disappearing from sight.
Her eyebrows raised, Lucy entered her house through the front door. It was eerily silent, her family nowhere to be seen. She proceeded to the back door and exited onto the back deck.
“SURPRISE!” came a chorus of voices. It looked like half her school was there in her backyard, surrounded by balloons and a sign that said, “Farewell, Lucy!”
“Oh my god,” Lucy said before she could stop herself. At the front of the group, Karina and Leila grinned at her, clearly the orchestrators of this whole event.
“Welcome to your going away party!” Karina said, stepping forward. Lucy was, for once, at a loss for words.
“Are you ok?” Lair asked from her place in the crowd.
“Sorry,” Lucy said, “just overwhelmed. This is so nice, y’all. Consider me, truly, surprised.”
“Oh, good,” Leila said, clapping their hands together in excitement. “We were worried someone might have spilled the beans.”
“No,” Lucy said, walking towards them, “I had no idea.”
Karina and Leila high-fived to a chorus of chuckles. Looking behind her, Lucy saw her family gathered in the doorway, grinning.
“Did you know about this?” she asked them.
“Of course,” her mom said. “Who do you think let everyone in?”
Everyone had shown up to bid Lucy adieu. Even Mars made an appearance, his new girlfriend in tow. She was a year younger than them in school but smart enough to be in some of Lucy’s classes. After years of pining after Mars, Lucy was happy to see him happy, though it puzzled her why he all of a sudden wanted to be in a relationship after insisting for so long that he preferred being single.
The sun set lazily to the west over the mountains as Lucy and her friends had one last hoorah. Lucy was pleasantly surprised when she discovered that no one had brought alcohol, respecting the restrictions of her ambassadorship. Lottie had told her that, once they were abroad, no one would care whether or not they drank. In the meantime, though, Lucy figured she’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Where’s Karina?” Lucy asked Leila, a can of soda cradled in her hands. She hadn’t seen her friend in nearly an hour. It was one of their last chances to see each other for a full year, and Lucy didn’t want to miss out on even a minute of quality time.
“I think she went inside,” Leila said, jerking their thumb towards the house.
Lucy wandered around her empty house looking for Karina. She wasn’t in the living room, the kitchen, or the downstairs bathroom. Maybe she’d gone upstairs to decompress, Lucy thought.
Karina often took breaks at parties to avoid getting overwhelmed and overstimulated.
“Karina?” she called as she walked up the stairs. She poked her head into the upstairs bathroom. Empty. “Where are you?”
If Karina was upstairs, she didn’t answer. Had she gone home? Lucy checked her wrist. No new notifications. It wasn’t like Karina to leave without saying goodbye. With a sigh, Lucy walked to her bedroom. She also needed the space to unwind, her social battery having been depleted by the hours of socializing in her honor.
She found Karina as soon as she entered her room. She was on Lucy’s bed, laying horizontally with Ami, furiously making out.
“Oh, god,” Lucy said.
“Lucy,” Karina said, pushing Ami away from her and sitting up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
But Lucy had already turned around, shut the door, and stormed downstairs.
“Luce,” Karina called behind her. Lucy ignored her and went back outside.
“Lucy,” Karina repeated, following her out of the back door and down the stairs. Lair, Cody, Ern, Leila, and a few other assorted friends stared at them as Lucy hurried towards them, Karina in close pursuit.
“What, Karina,” Lucy finally said, turning around to see her friend inches away from her. She smelled like warm florals up close. Was she wearing perfume?
“I’m sorry,” Karina said quickly.
“Sorry for what?” Lucy snapped. “Sorry for disappearing? Sorry for making tonight about yourself as always? Keep your apology, Karina.”
Karina looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Lucy felt a pang of guilt for having made her best friend feel like this, but she swiftly recovered, leaning on the boiling anger she felt inside her.
“Luce – ” Karina started, but Lucy interrupted her.
“No, seriously,” Lucy continued, her rage taking over. “What did you think, I wasn’t going to find out? That you’d have this dirty little secret from me, your best fucking friend?”
“Lucy,” Leila said, stepping forward.
“Don’t start,” Lucy practically growled. “You’re just as bad. Come on, try to tell me you didn’t know. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Leila asked.
“I didn’t mean to detract from your day,” Karina said, tears swelling in her eyes.
“Come on,” Lucy said, “don’t pretend like you both didn’t know exactly what you were doing. It’s one of my last nights in the US and you’re spending it, what, with him?”
She gestured to Ami, who was loitering in the doorway behind them.
“Don’t bring me into this,” he said. “This is some serious drama that I do not want any part in.”
“Great,” Lucy said, sniffling to hold back a sob. “Just some stupid drama. Great.”
“Lucy,” Leila said, “get a grip. Tonight was all about you. Just because Karina wanted to be with her boyfriend – ”
“Boyfriend?” Lucy felt a blow straight to her chest. Karina and Ami were dating now? When the hell did that happen?
A silence fell over the teens gathered beneath the burgeoning night sky. Lucy could hear frogs singing, a bird or two, in the quiet.
“Well?” Lucy choked out.
“It’s really only been official for a couple of days now,” Karina started, but Leila quickly interrupted her.
“You don’t need to defend yourself, Kar,” they said, stepping in front of her, standing between her and Lucy. “You can tell whoever the hell you want about who you’re dating. Why are you being so weird about this, Lucy?”
“I’m not being weird,” Lucy snapped. “It is objectively weird to get a boyfriend and not tell your supposed best friend. Not to mention making a scene at her going away party. Come on, right?”
She looked around, trying to make eye contact with any of their friends. No one would meet her eyes.
“Come on,” Karina said with a huff. “We threw you this going away party. You need to get a grip. I’m not sure what’s up your ass, but buzz me when you remove it. Come on, Leila.”
Leila turned and walked with Karina up the stairs to Lucy’s back door without so much as looking at Lucy.
Lucy left her phone on do not disturb for the rest of her time in the US. But it didn’t matter: no one messaged her, not for four days straight. She spent hours poring over her friends’ social media profiles in that time. They were all going about their lives, just without her there. Parties, lake days, getting ready to go back to school. All of these plans, none of which she’d so much as heard of.
She used to think she and Karina and Leila would be best friends for the rest of their lives. After all, they’d been so lucky to find each other, coming together to bond over their shared music taste, interest in niche web humor, and commitment to making it through school. They had been inseparable for years now. Lucy had even been asked by multiple classmates whether or not she and Karina were dating. No, she told them with a smile, they were just best friends.
But now? Now, she didn’t know if they’d ever talk again. Four days was the longest they’d gone without speaking since becoming close nearly three years ago.
She didn’t get a notification until the day she left, when she was alerted that her flight to Denver would be late. Still, she showed up early to the airport. The whole family drove her to the international airport in Portland two hours away, her siblings yawning when they got in the family car at six in the morning. The alert hadn’t come until they were already on their way, and at that point, there was no turning back. She didn’t mind being up early. It wasn’t like she’d been able to sleep the night before. Being in the car that early meant she got to watch the sunrise over the desert landscape she’d spent her whole life in. It was the perfect farewell to a less-than-perfect place.
Though her home had raised her, teaching her everything she knew, she couldn’t help but resent it for the disappointment it had also delivered her over the years. She’s been born for a big city, she was sure, and waiting her lifetime to finally leave her hometown had truly worn her down.
Alone in an airport for the first time in her life, she treated herself to a scone, something sweeter than she’d usually be allowed to have this early in the morning. She was entering a new phase of her life. In leaving home, she was leaving her childhood self behind. After years of being Lucy Rosen, she could finally be whoever she wanted to be. She called the shots now. And she was the kind of person who ate pastries for breakfast. It was European, right?
She journaled on her laptop while she waited for her train to arrive. After much debate, she’d decided not to bring any bound books, including notebooks. It would just weigh her down, she’d told herself. She’d buy a special notebook when she got to Spain, something that more accurately represented her new position in life.
“I’m finally leaving Oregon,” she wrote, “finally growing up.” She was aging well, she noted. In just a few months, she’d turn eighteen. Then she would be an adult in the eyes of the law, able to carry herself on her own as she’d longed to do for so many years.
Lucy loved being alone. She was strongest on her own. Though she’d been social since she was a kid, she’d always prized her alone time. Perhaps it came from having three siblings within a handful of years age of her. Ever since she was a year and a half old, when her next-oldest sibling had been born, she’d always had someone in her space. Now, she had only herself to worry about. She wouldn’t have anyone's expectations to live up to but her own.
What were her expectations for herself? She’d once expected to go to Boston College, to get a degree in art history, to go on and work for a national museum. She could still follow part of that path, she supposed. But alone in a bustling train station full of people navigating their own lives, she thought it fruitless to dwell on past dreams. She wanted to be someone new, someone who aimed high and achieved their goals.
The new Lucy would take risks. Maybe she’d try breaking some rules. Only the ones that didn’t serve her. After being a rule-stickler her whole life, she didn’t imagine she would veer too far off the rails.
A text from the airline told her that it was time to board her plane. She packed up her laptop, finished her coffee, and steered herself towards her gate. On the way, she passed a small gift shop with a table of assorted items out front. She let herself peruse them, another treat she wasn’t usually allowed to have. Her parents had a firm anti-souvenir stance, though she found that she quite enjoyed the Oregon-themed memorabilia in front of her. A topographical map of the state in the form of a magnet stood out to her in particular. She’d always loved the peaks of the Cascade mountains, the depths of the Willamette Valley and Crater Lake. High highs and low lows. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she slid the magnet into her jacket pocket and speed-walked away.
As much as Lucy loved showing off her thighs in her new shorts, she was also uneasy in them. She’d spent the entirety of the meeting she’d just come from adjusting them, making sure they weren’t too revealing of either her stomach or legs. She’d pull them up to cover her navel, only to realize just how much leg she was baring and tug them back down. It would be easier to wear them when she finally left, away from the judgemental gaze of her mom, who had accompanied her to today’s gathering.
They’d celebrated the ambassadors’ early graduation nearly three months late. Three months had passed since her last day of school, and still, she was a week away from finally flying to Spain. Visa issues had put a nasty halt to her plans to get to Malaga early, to learn the lay of the land before her teaching position at the local technical school started. She would officially arrive three weeks into the school year. Lucy didn’t understand how she could have problems getting her visa from the government when her ambassadorship was through the same entity. There must have been some serious disconnect between departments, her mom said. Her dad had some select, much stronger words that he chose to describe the situation.
In celebrating their graduation, the government ambassadors were also celebrating their early college decisions. A month and 80 rows in her color-coded spreadsheet later, Lucy had chosen Pacifica College for the mere existence of its Art History program and its lucrative location in the newly-formed city of Pacifica. She would be back on the West Coast after living abroad, which her mom insisted would make the transition from her ambassadorship to college that much easier.
It wasn’t that Lucy wasn’t excited for the next step in her future. She was very excited about her college choice, and proud to boot. But she was having a hard time envisioning a future so different from what she’d planned. Somewhere not so far below the surface, fifteen-year-old Lucy watched on with wide eyes as she made choice after choice that steered her from her original plan. What was supposed to be finishing off high school with the classmates she’d known since she was a kid had turned into graduating early and jetting off overseas. Boston College had ended up taking her off the waitlist, but by that point, Lucy had already decided that it wasn’t the right choice for her. As much as she still wanted to study Art History and end up working at a national museum, she also recognized the benefit of having more options available to her. Boston would have required a commitment to one program, without the ability to switch if something came up. After this last year of changed plans, Lucy didn’t want to end up stuck in her child’s fantasy with no concrete way out.
She was disappointed to be staying on the West Coast for school. Though she’d applied to half a dozen schools on the East Coast, they either didn’t accept her or didn’t offer the flexibility she had recently decided she’d needed. Sitting through the meeting in which each ambassador had announced their college program one by one, she’d been left wanting for a choice a little further away. Many of her fellow students had opted for an Oregon state school, but those who didn’t had shown Lucy just how many more options had been available to her that she hadn’t taken advantage of.
But Lucy didn’t like to live with regrets. She’d worked her ass off to get to this point: leaving the US to teach abroad, coming back to a solid college program. She’d made her bed and was getting comfortable in it. Even her parents were coming around. Just last night, Lucy’s dad had come home with a box full of Pacifica merch that he’d ordered for the whole family to rep. Lucy recalled him walking around the house in his Pacifica sweatshirt the rest of the night, wearing it to eat, paint, and even sleep. Her siblings had insisted on nailing down a date for the family’s first visit, which Lucy had artfully dodged by steering the conversation to her ambassador assignment. She may be spending a year away from her family, but it was still too soon for her to think about seeing them again.
“Lucy,” she heard someone loudly whisper. She looked around trying to locate the source of the call.
“Up here,” her second-oldest sibling hissed. Lucy tilted her head up to see them leaning out of the window in her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Lucy asked. “Get out of my room.”
“Go out back,” they responded before closing the window and disappearing from sight.
Her eyebrows raised, Lucy entered her house through the front door. It was eerily silent, her family nowhere to be seen. She proceeded to the back door and exited onto the back deck.
“SURPRISE!” came a chorus of voices. It looked like half her school was there in her backyard, surrounded by balloons and a sign that said, “Farewell, Lucy!”
“Oh my god,” Lucy said before she could stop herself. At the front of the group, Karina and Leila grinned at her, clearly the orchestrators of this whole event.
“Welcome to your going away party!” Karina said, stepping forward. Lucy was, for once, at a loss for words.
“Are you ok?” Lair asked from her place in the crowd.
“Sorry,” Lucy said, “just overwhelmed. This is so nice, y’all. Consider me, truly, surprised.”
“Oh, good,” Leila said, clapping their hands together in excitement. “We were worried someone might have spilled the beans.”
“No,” Lucy said, walking towards them, “I had no idea.”
Karina and Leila high-fived to a chorus of chuckles. Looking behind her, Lucy saw her family gathered in the doorway, grinning.
“Did you know about this?” she asked them.
“Of course,” her mom said. “Who do you think let everyone in?”
Everyone had shown up to bid Lucy adieu. Even Mars made an appearance, his new girlfriend in tow. She was a year younger than them in school but smart enough to be in some of Lucy’s classes. After years of pining after Mars, Lucy was happy to see him happy, though it puzzled her why he all of a sudden wanted to be in a relationship after insisting for so long that he preferred being single.
The sun set lazily to the west over the mountains as Lucy and her friends had one last hoorah. Lucy was pleasantly surprised when she discovered that no one had brought alcohol, respecting the restrictions of her ambassadorship. Lottie had told her that, once they were abroad, no one would care whether or not they drank. In the meantime, though, Lucy figured she’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Where’s Karina?” Lucy asked Leila, a can of soda cradled in her hands. She hadn’t seen her friend in nearly an hour. It was one of their last chances to see each other for a full year, and Lucy didn’t want to miss out on even a minute of quality time.
“I think she went inside,” Leila said, jerking their thumb towards the house.
Lucy wandered around her empty house looking for Karina. She wasn’t in the living room, the kitchen, or the downstairs bathroom. Maybe she’d gone upstairs to decompress, Lucy thought.
Karina often took breaks at parties to avoid getting overwhelmed and overstimulated.
“Karina?” she called as she walked up the stairs. She poked her head into the upstairs bathroom. Empty. “Where are you?”
If Karina was upstairs, she didn’t answer. Had she gone home? Lucy checked her wrist. No new notifications. It wasn’t like Karina to leave without saying goodbye. With a sigh, Lucy walked to her bedroom. She also needed the space to unwind, her social battery having been depleted by the hours of socializing in her honor.
She found Karina as soon as she entered her room. She was on Lucy’s bed, laying horizontally with Ami, furiously making out.
“Oh, god,” Lucy said.
“Lucy,” Karina said, pushing Ami away from her and sitting up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
But Lucy had already turned around, shut the door, and stormed downstairs.
“Luce,” Karina called behind her. Lucy ignored her and went back outside.
“Lucy,” Karina repeated, following her out of the back door and down the stairs. Lair, Cody, Ern, Leila, and a few other assorted friends stared at them as Lucy hurried towards them, Karina in close pursuit.
“What, Karina,” Lucy finally said, turning around to see her friend inches away from her. She smelled like warm florals up close. Was she wearing perfume?
“I’m sorry,” Karina said quickly.
“Sorry for what?” Lucy snapped. “Sorry for disappearing? Sorry for making tonight about yourself as always? Keep your apology, Karina.”
Karina looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Lucy felt a pang of guilt for having made her best friend feel like this, but she swiftly recovered, leaning on the boiling anger she felt inside her.
“Luce – ” Karina started, but Lucy interrupted her.
“No, seriously,” Lucy continued, her rage taking over. “What did you think, I wasn’t going to find out? That you’d have this dirty little secret from me, your best fucking friend?”
“Lucy,” Leila said, stepping forward.
“Don’t start,” Lucy practically growled. “You’re just as bad. Come on, try to tell me you didn’t know. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Leila asked.
“I didn’t mean to detract from your day,” Karina said, tears swelling in her eyes.
“Come on,” Lucy said, “don’t pretend like you both didn’t know exactly what you were doing. It’s one of my last nights in the US and you’re spending it, what, with him?”
She gestured to Ami, who was loitering in the doorway behind them.
“Don’t bring me into this,” he said. “This is some serious drama that I do not want any part in.”
“Great,” Lucy said, sniffling to hold back a sob. “Just some stupid drama. Great.”
“Lucy,” Leila said, “get a grip. Tonight was all about you. Just because Karina wanted to be with her boyfriend – ”
“Boyfriend?” Lucy felt a blow straight to her chest. Karina and Ami were dating now? When the hell did that happen?
A silence fell over the teens gathered beneath the burgeoning night sky. Lucy could hear frogs singing, a bird or two, in the quiet.
“Well?” Lucy choked out.
“It’s really only been official for a couple of days now,” Karina started, but Leila quickly interrupted her.
“You don’t need to defend yourself, Kar,” they said, stepping in front of her, standing between her and Lucy. “You can tell whoever the hell you want about who you’re dating. Why are you being so weird about this, Lucy?”
“I’m not being weird,” Lucy snapped. “It is objectively weird to get a boyfriend and not tell your supposed best friend. Not to mention making a scene at her going away party. Come on, right?”
She looked around, trying to make eye contact with any of their friends. No one would meet her eyes.
“Come on,” Karina said with a huff. “We threw you this going away party. You need to get a grip. I’m not sure what’s up your ass, but buzz me when you remove it. Come on, Leila.”
Leila turned and walked with Karina up the stairs to Lucy’s back door without so much as looking at Lucy.
Lucy left her phone on do not disturb for the rest of her time in the US. But it didn’t matter: no one messaged her, not for four days straight. She spent hours poring over her friends’ social media profiles in that time. They were all going about their lives, just without her there. Parties, lake days, getting ready to go back to school. All of these plans, none of which she’d so much as heard of.
She used to think she and Karina and Leila would be best friends for the rest of their lives. After all, they’d been so lucky to find each other, coming together to bond over their shared music taste, interest in niche web humor, and commitment to making it through school. They had been inseparable for years now. Lucy had even been asked by multiple classmates whether or not she and Karina were dating. No, she told them with a smile, they were just best friends.
But now? Now, she didn’t know if they’d ever talk again. Four days was the longest they’d gone without speaking since becoming close nearly three years ago.
She didn’t get a notification until the day she left, when she was alerted that her flight to Denver would be late. Still, she showed up early to the airport. The whole family drove her to the international airport in Portland two hours away, her siblings yawning when they got in the family car at six in the morning. The alert hadn’t come until they were already on their way, and at that point, there was no turning back. She didn’t mind being up early. It wasn’t like she’d been able to sleep the night before. Being in the car that early meant she got to watch the sunrise over the desert landscape she’d spent her whole life in. It was the perfect farewell to a less-than-perfect place.
Though her home had raised her, teaching her everything she knew, she couldn’t help but resent it for the disappointment it had also delivered her over the years. She’s been born for a big city, she was sure, and waiting her lifetime to finally leave her hometown had truly worn her down.
Alone in an airport for the first time in her life, she treated herself to a scone, something sweeter than she’d usually be allowed to have this early in the morning. She was entering a new phase of her life. In leaving home, she was leaving her childhood self behind. After years of being Lucy Rosen, she could finally be whoever she wanted to be. She called the shots now. And she was the kind of person who ate pastries for breakfast. It was European, right?
She journaled on her laptop while she waited for her train to arrive. After much debate, she’d decided not to bring any bound books, including notebooks. It would just weigh her down, she’d told herself. She’d buy a special notebook when she got to Spain, something that more accurately represented her new position in life.
“I’m finally leaving Oregon,” she wrote, “finally growing up.” She was aging well, she noted. In just a few months, she’d turn eighteen. Then she would be an adult in the eyes of the law, able to carry herself on her own as she’d longed to do for so many years.
Lucy loved being alone. She was strongest on her own. Though she’d been social since she was a kid, she’d always prized her alone time. Perhaps it came from having three siblings within a handful of years age of her. Ever since she was a year and a half old, when her next-oldest sibling had been born, she’d always had someone in her space. Now, she had only herself to worry about. She wouldn’t have anyone's expectations to live up to but her own.
What were her expectations for herself? She’d once expected to go to Boston College, to get a degree in art history, to go on and work for a national museum. She could still follow part of that path, she supposed. But alone in a bustling train station full of people navigating their own lives, she thought it fruitless to dwell on past dreams. She wanted to be someone new, someone who aimed high and achieved their goals.
The new Lucy would take risks. Maybe she’d try breaking some rules. Only the ones that didn’t serve her. After being a rule-stickler her whole life, she didn’t imagine she would veer too far off the rails.
A text from the airline told her that it was time to board her plane. She packed up her laptop, finished her coffee, and steered herself towards her gate. On the way, she passed a small gift shop with a table of assorted items out front. She let herself peruse them, another treat she wasn’t usually allowed to have. Her parents had a firm anti-souvenir stance, though she found that she quite enjoyed the Oregon-themed memorabilia in front of her. A topographical map of the state in the form of a magnet stood out to her in particular. She’d always loved the peaks of the Cascade mountains, the depths of the Willamette Valley and Crater Lake. High highs and low lows. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she slid the magnet into her jacket pocket and speed-walked away.
Hannah Goldstein is a creative living in Asheville, NC with their partner and two dogs, Beatrice and Gracie. You can find them teaching themself to sew (thanks, Project Runway!), hot gluing beads to any number of inanimate objects, or simply lounging on their front porch. Hannah often goes more than four days without speaking to their best friends, as they are adults and can manage appropriate communication expectations. They are happily in love with someone who is also in therapy and they credit their success to being dumped by their college boyfriend. Thanks, Brendan!
