Chapter 2: Part 2

Ashley backed through the door and set down the box in her arms.  When she stood up there was a strange twinge in the back of her mind, like she was forgetting something.  Whatever it was, she told herself, it couldn’t have been important.  Or, at least, she tried to tell herself that, but she couldn’t shake her unsettledness.  She turned around, sure that something had been there a moment ago, but couldn’t summon the memory.

 

At that moment, though, Hannah walked in carrying another box, and Ashley’s heart soared.  Just like that, the butterflies were gone.

 

“That’s the last of it,” Hannah said brightly, though slightly out of breath.  The red bandana tied around her hair was darkened with sweat.  “My dad’ll be up in a minute, and then I think he’s gonna go return the trailer.”

 

Ashley ran into the kitchen and fished through one of the plastic bags.  “Here,” she said, eagerly producing two orange bottles of Gatorade.  “One for you, one for him.”

 

“Awww!”  Hannah took the two of them and beamed.  “He loves orange.”

 

“I know,” she said, and she grinned as Hannah took another step toward her.

 

“I love orange too, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” Ashley said.  “I know.  You’ve—”

 

She cut off as Hannah reached up and ran her fingers through Ashley’s red-orange hair, and then they were kissing.  It was light and sweet, the perfect kind of kiss for a morning in May.

 

“You weren’t talking about the gatorade,” Ashley said softly, blushing.

 

Hannah smirked, shook her head, and kissed her again.

 

At thumping footsteps in the hall Hannah bounced backwards across the kitchen, always so light on her feet, and promptly handed one of the gatorade bottles to her father as he came in.

 

“Oh,” he said, smiling widely.  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

 

“Ashley bought them,” Hannah replied.

 

Her father blinked and looked across the meager apartment, over the precarious stacks of belongings and disassembled furniture, and gave Ashley a knowing smile.  Then he rubbed his hands together vigorously.  “Okay!  Well, the trailer is all emptied out.  I’m gonna get it back to them before they try to charge me for another day.  Do you need me to come back later?  Help with moving any of this stuff around?”

 

“I think we got it,” Hannah said, laying her hands gently but firmly against his chest.

 

“Are you sure?  You don’t need a hand putting the—”

 

“Dad,” she said, as she gave him a more insistent push, “we got this.  I promise.  Super grateful, but—”

 

“Alright,” he said, throwing his hands up.  “Alright.  I know when I’m not wanted.”

 

“Iloveyoubutgetout,” Hannah said, laughing.  She shut the door behind him, and turned to lean back against it.  Her face was alight with energy, and Ashley knew her own expression was no less giddy.  “So.”

 

“So,” Ashley said, as the two of them moved toward each other.

 

“Our first apartment,” the little brunette said, as she bit her lip playfully.

 

Ashley nodded, her smile widening, as they moved into each other’s arms.

 

“Feels pretty momentous.”  

 

“Very,” Ashley said, but when Hannah moved in to kiss her again, she shook her head.  “We can’t.  Not yet.”

 

“What?” Hannah said, face white with shock.  “Why not?”

 

Ashley held up three fingers, then drew her ring finger into her palm, and then her middle, and then pointed to the front door.  Our front door, she thought.  Her entire spine ran up and down with chills at the fruition of that long-held dream.

 

One second later, nearly perfectly predicted, Hannah’s dad opened the door with his hands shielding his eyes.  “Sorry,” he said, “sorry.  I forgot the Gatorade!  I’ll get out of your way!”  He quickly grabbed the bottle from the box where he’d set it down and retreated without really having peeked.  Much.

 

As soon as the door was closed Hannah burst into laughter, and Ashley followed suit right along with her.  She kissed her beautiful girlfriend, and squeezed her shoulders tightly.  “I know you want to, but I can’t.  Not with this mess like this.  It’ll drive me nuts.”

 

“Oh boo,” Hannah said, sneaking in one more quick kiss.

 

Ashley thought she might never get enough of those little kisses that Hannah was so fond of.  The big ones, the passionate ones, were lovely, but the little ones had an amazing allure all their own.  They were like chocolate on the pillow, or an after dinner mint.  They made her feel weightless.  Buoyant.

 

Ashley immediately started working on the boxes, unpacking and sorting from her knees, and was not at all surprised to see Hannah lurking along the wall beside her.  Nor was she surprised by the telltale click-zzzzt of Hannah’s Polaroid camera.  Ashley shook her head, and continued pulling out books and putting them into different stacks.

 

“You were working in a sunbeam,” Hannah said, by way of explanation, as she walked into the kitchen.

 

Ashley sat back on her heels and looked around, as Hannah gave her a playful smirk over her shoulder.  She was pretty sure she hadn’t actually been in a sunbeam, but the picture in Hannah’s hand would look like it.  Hannah had an eye for framing things just so.  It was painfully beautiful.

 

Just like Hannah, Ashley thought to herself.

 

“I think this semester is going to be really special,” Hannah said, raising her voice to be heard from across the apartment.  “Like, remember it for the rest of our lives special.”

 

Ashley blinked.  “Oh?”

 

“Yeah.”  The sound of silverware rattling, and glasses being moved from boxes to shelves.  “You and me, on our own.  No more sneaking around.”

 

Ashley laughed.  “Who are you kidding?  You love having to be quiet when we might get caught.”

 

“Not all the time!”

 

“Mmmm,” she said, noncommittally.

 

“Not even just that,” Hannah continued.  “I mean, like… We’re on our own!  We’ve been waiting for this for how many years?”

 

“Yeah,” Ashley said, suddenly feeling very distant from Hannah’s enthusiasm.  She stood, head turned to stare out the window, at the darkening skies.  She was sure it had been sunny just moments before.  

 

Hannah came up behind her, wrapped her arms around Ashley’s middle, and set her upraised chin on Ashley’s shoulder.  “Yeah.  That’s coming, but try not to think about it.  Just focus on now.  It’s good now, remember?  It’s perfect now.”

 

“What?” Ashley said, looking back, and as she did she felt a rush of comprehension.  “It didn’t rain that day.  It was…”

 

“It’s more of a metaphorical storm,” the little brunette replied.  “Don’t worry about the future.  Just be here.  Remember how good it was when we lived here?”  She moved around toward Ashley’s front, and smiled.  “Remember how good I was for you?”

 

Ashley twisted her way free and took a step back.  The boxes around her were gone, and the apartment suddenly looked more like the way it had just before they’d moved out.  All the pictures were in place.  The second couch, the blue one, after they broke the first one with aggressive sex.  There was the red wine stain in the carpet that wouldn’t happen for another eighteen months.  “I’m still dreaming?  What the hell!”

 

Hannah stood up straight, no longer carrying on the pretense of subtle seduction, and folded her arms across her chest.  “You remember how happy you were when we moved in here.  It was like a dream come true.”

 

“You aren’t her,” Ashley spat.  “There is no we here.”

 

“Semantics,” she said, as she rolled her eyes.  “You can’t lie in here.  You can deflect all you want, but you can’t deny how you felt.  How I made you feel.”

 

“Yeah, right up to the moment you ripped my heart out!”

 

“The party line.”  Hannah smirked.  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good line, but we both know it’s not the whole story.  Not really.”

 

“I never cheated on you,” Ashley snarled, taking an angry step forward.

 

Unlike the real Hannah, who would have backed away from any kind of aggression, dream Hannah matched her step for step, her lip curled in defiance.  “You didn’t pull the trigger, but you were happy to load the gun one bullet at a time.”  Then she smiled, grimly, and added, “Four years, three months, eighteen days.”

 

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Ashley said, waving her hand dismissively, “but—”

 

***

 

“—this really isn’t... the... place.”  Ashley blinked, and shook her head.  There had been something else, but it danced away from her thoughts like smoke.  Something she was saying?

 

Hannah folded her arms across her chest and curled in on herself.  It was cool that night, but not cold enough for Hannah to be flinching like that.  It was always kind of cute when Hannah sulked.

 

“We can talk about it later, okay?”

 

“Fine,” Hannah said.  “We should get back.”

 

Hannah moved forward and hugged her, and although Ashley didn’t hug her back she did let Hannah rest her head on her shoulder.  That felt like enough.  For now.  She swallowed the last of her third glass of wine.

 

It was a clear evening, perfect for gathering on a balcony and drinking with friends, but dinner was almost ready to serve inside.  Their friends Tegan and Shaye were taking their turn hosting, and Shaye was a natural in the kitchen.  It was always something unexpected, healthier than it had any right to be, and delightful.  She gave her little girlfriend a kiss on the top of her forehead, and turned to go back inside.

 

“Do you promise?” Hannah asked quietly.

 

Ashley paused, the door opened a crack, and looked back quizzically.

 

“That we’ll talk about it later?”

 

“Of course,” Ashley said, flatly.

 

The look she got in return was guarded, but Ashley brushed it off.  She really did have every intention of following through.

 

Their friend Gina and her new boyfriend Victor were already sitting at the table, sipping from glasses of white wine and enjoying a private joke between them.  As soon as they stepped back in from the balcony, Tegan ushered them to sit as well.  Tegan might not have been able to boil water without burning it, but she was a born hostess.

 

-

 

“Everything is so good,” Ashley said, around a mouthful of the fluffiest quiche she’d ever tasted.  It was the first thing anyone had said since they’d started eating, they were all enjoying it so much, and everyone else nodded in concert.  Shaye blushed and nodded in thanks.

 

“Really good,” Hannah echoed.  She took a sip from her second glass of riesling, and dabbed at her lip with a napkin. 

 

“So,” Gina said, sitting up a little, “I know you all introduced yourselves, but I would really like to go around the table a little bit.  Babe, my girls are all really lovely women.”

 

Hannah, seated on Victor’s right, leaned forward with a grin.  Her cheeks were rosy and red, and she gestured with the hand holding her wine glass.  “Tegan,” she said, “is gonna be a lawyer.”  She tried to shift in her chair, and the awkward motion betrayed the amount of wine she’d had to drink.  “Her dad thinks she’s gonna work for him, but noooo.”

 

“Hannah,” Shaye said, laughing.  “That’s not something she’s telling everyone yet!”

 

“It’s okay, sugar,” Tegan said, leaning back and laying her hand over her girlfriends. She was a tall, angular woman, and her poker face was as good as they came.  “My dad is not going to be hitting up my circle of friends for my post-grad plans.”

 

“Her dad is a bastard,” Hannah whispered, sotto voce, and then, directed at Tegan, “Love you though.”

 

Tegan blew her a kiss, and smirked.  “He’s a partner at his firm.  I’ve been letting him think that I’m gonna join him, follow in his footsteps, but I’m either gonna try and become a district attorney—”

 

“Put all your dad’s shit clients in jail,” Shaye said, smiling and snuggling up to her.

 

“—or,” Tegan said, “find a good non-profit to work for.  ACLU, NAACP.  Something like that.”

 

“That’s so cool,” Victor replied, eyes wide.

 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Tegan said.  “Ashley here is gonna do Doctors Without Borders.”

 

Ashley colored slightly as she stared down at her drink, and said nothing.

 

“That’s some serious humanitarian shit right there.”

 

“She’s been talking about it for years,” Hannah added, as she sidled up against her arm.

 

“I’ve got a long way to go,” Ashley replied, quietly.  She’d always been a sad drunk.  “But hey, if you want to talk about…”  Her voice failed her for a second, and it seemed like the whole room froze.  Not just that they were waiting, but paused.  Then she blinked, and the moment resumed.  “If you wanna talk about humanitarian cases?  You wanna talk about selflessness, then Hannah here is the biggest martyr.”

 

Hannah turned and stared at her, but Ashley merely clapped her on the shoulder before continuing.

 

“She’s gonna spend her whole life cleaning up after her junkie dad.”  She tilted back her wine glass, draining the last of it, and licked her lips.  “It’s gonna be so great.”

 

“Ashley,” Hannah said, urgently.  “What are you doing?”

 

Sometimes, though, Ashley was a mean drunk.  “She’s gonna give up her art, and her contacts, and burn all her bridges so she can clean up puke and make excuses for a grown ass man for the rest of her life.”  Then she added, sourly, “What a saint.”

 

This time, it was Shaye who stepped in.  “Do you two want to step out on the balcony for a moment?  Get some air?”

 

Hannah was staring hard at her, and Ashley was staring right back.  “What?” Ashley said.  “It’s later, isn’t it?”

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The little brunette said nothing.  She shook her head and broke eye contact first, which Ashley counted as a win.  She sat back in her chair, smug with victory, and pretended quite successfully that she didn’t care that everyone else in the room was staring at her.

 

The little brunette leaned forward and squeezed her eyes shut.

 

Suddenly, Hannah started clapping.  Ashley’s self-satisfied smirk slipped considerably, and she leaned back in her seat.  She received an even bigger shock when she looked around, to see how everyone else was reacting to this sudden turn in behavior, and found the room empty except for themselves.

 

Rain was coming down in sheets, pelting the glass panes in the windows and balcony door. 

 

“That was good,” Hannah said, excitedly.  Then she kissed her fingertips and added, “Perfection.”

 

“You,” Ashley hissed, her eyes narrowing.

 

“When you said—”

 

“It’s later, isn’t it?”  Ashley clapped her hands over her mouth, her own voice coming from her own lips unbidden, and Hannah laughed and clapped again.

 

“Priceless!”

 

“Who are you?” Ashley cried out. The effect was somewhat muffled, what with her hands still held tightly over her lips.

 

“Haven’t worked it out yet?”  Then, after a beat, she added, “How did it go with Doctors Without Borders, by the way?  You did go, didn’t you?  It’s been a long time since we talked.”

 

“I’m not having this conversation,” Ashley grumbled, piteously.

 

“Never made it further south than San Francisco, did you?  Boutique client list.  How many botox injections this year, hmm?”

 

“I don’t have anything to prove to a figment of my imagination!” she snarled.

 

Hannah shook her head, and said, “Twenty six days.”

 

***

 

Ashley inhaled quickly, body jerking haptically as she roused from her sleep.  She knew where she was just from the smell of it without even opening her eyes.  Hannah’s house somehow always smelled like fresh laundry.  She rolled over, and found herself face to face with the girl.  Her best friend, eleven, with her own twelfth birthday having come the week before.  Hannah looked so perfect, with her button nose, her freckles, and cheeks that flushed with such radiant color whenever she was excited.

 

It had been getting harder to deal with that, though Ashley barely understood why.

 

Hannah was still sleeping, lips moving softly with every exhalation.  Her mousy brown hair was tousled, adorably messy despite the night’s rest.  Some of it perched across her face, as if placed lovingly by an angel.

 

Ashley’s mouth was suddenly very, very dry. Minutes passed silently while Hannah did little more than breathe; breathing was all she could manage.

 

That is, until she found herself leaning in across the tiny space between them.  On the one hand, she couldn’t imagine why she was doing what she was doing, and on the other hand, she had to do something.  She had to know.  She had always been too curious for her own good.

 

Her best friend stirred, making a soft cooing sound while they kissed, and Ashley melted on the inside.  Her eyes drifted shut and she stayed there, lips pressed, for several long breaths.

 

Hannah was peering at her when she pulled back, and Ashley froze.  Had she been awake the whole time?  Oh God.  It was a mistake.  A huge mistake.  Ashley’s throat closed entirely, and she waited for a second that put days to shame.  So panicked was she that she almost didn’t notice the little curl on the edge of Hannah’s lips.  Hannah had always had a crooked little smile.

 

They didn’t kiss again; they simply laid there, face to face, smiling and quietly sharing the same space under the heavy comforter.  Hannah’s little radio clock kicked on, and the room was filled with soft, acoustic guitar.  Her favorite college FM station.  Somewhere, deep under the blankets, Hannah’s hands found hers, and their fingers intertwined.

 

For a little while there, under the covers, it was perfect.

 

“Are we girlfriends?” Hannah whispered.

 

Downstairs, some time later, Ashley sat at the kitchen table, eating eggs and a plateful of Hannah’s mother’s famous silver dollar pancakes.  She and Hannah were sitting across the table from each other, trading furtive glances and secret smiles.  Abruptly, Hannah got up, plate only halfway cleared, and went over to her mother, who was still at the stove cooking.  Her mother leaned down while Hannah whispered in her ear, and a moment later both of them turned to look back.

 

All Ashley could do was blush.

 

But that was it.  That was the whole of it.  A few whispers.  A smile.  Hannah came out to her mother as if it were nothing, and in the end it was nothing; a non-event.  Hannah took a picture of them, because of course she did, to mark the occasion, and it had pride of place in every bedroom Hannah lived in from then on.  

 

It took considerably more, and considerably more pushing from Hannah, for Ashley to do the same and tell her mother —Hannah had always been the brave one— though it was the same in the end.  Non-events all around.

 

Hannah swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, smiled devilishly, and said, “Ten years, three months, eleven days.”

 

***

 

“It’s unlocked,” Ashley’s mom yelled, from the kitchen.  “Ashley, Hannah’s here!"

 

Ashley fixed her black wig, again, grabbed her airsoft pistols, and jumped out of the bathroom with both drawn when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  Her face did not hide her shock, and Hannah winced.

 

“What the heck is this?” she cried.  “The party’s in thirty minutes!”

 

“I’m Willow,” Hannah said, holding out her arms and twirling.  Her frumpy sweater, skirt, and leggings were spot on.

 

“You’re not supposed to be Willow,” Ashley said, eyebrows racing upwards, “you’re supposed to be Buffy!  The Slayer!  My Selene only barely makes sense if you’re Buffy!  What the heck, Han?”

 

Hannah shrugged and winced, a pitch-perfect portrayal of Willow Rosenberg’s timidity that made Ashley groan loudly.

 

“Mom,” Ashley shouted downstairs, “Hannah’s gonna borrow some of your clothes, okay?”

 

“Okay,” came her mother’s distant voice.  “Keep it PG-13!”

 

Ashley rolled her eyes, took Hannah by the hand, and pulled her into her mother’s bedroom.  “What do you have on under that sweater?”

 

“A tank top?”

 

“Good,” she said, as she wandered into her mother’s closet.  “Take that sweater off.”  She went to the back, pulled out a faded, maroon red leather jacket, and tossed it onto the end of the double bed.  Then she sprinted out into the hall and leaped for the string.  The attic stairs fell and unfolded, creaking fearsomely as they always did.

 

“What are you going into the attic for?” her mother asked.

 

“Old clothes,” Ashley called back.  She scampered up the steps, fingers fluttering, and quickly sorted through a couple boxes of clothes she’d outgrown years before.  “Come on, come on.”

 

Her shout of triumph, upon finding the right pair of jeans, reverberated through the house, and she quickly bounded down into the hallway again.

 

“Here,” she said, throwing the jeans through the doorway.  “Put those on too.”

 

“Ash,” Hannah whined.  “I don’t know about this.”  She still had the leather jacket in her hands.

 

“Come on.  Put it on!  Let’s go!”  For the (second to) last step, she dropped to her knees, and started rifling through the shoes underneath her mom’s bed.  “I think these might fit,” she said, mostly to herself, as she came back out a few seconds later with a pair of laceless black leather boots.  “Might have to wear two pairs of socks.  Then we’ll see if we can find a good stick in the yard for a stake.”

 

Hannah still hadn’t moved, and it wasn’t until this moment that Ashley noticed something was wrong.  Her first instinct was to keep pushing Hannah until the costume was on, because then Hannah would see and it would make sense, but inspiration hit her.  She sat down on the edge of the bed, shoulders brushing against her girlfriend's, and waited.

 

“I’d feel like a fraud if I went as Buffy,” Hannah said, softly, a minute later.  “I can do Willow without even trying.”

 

Ashley scoffed.  “Yeah, but… Willow is a sidekick.  I mean, she’s cool, but she’s a sidekick.  You’re not a sidekick.”

 

Hannah partially turned toward her, and gave her a flat look.

 

“You are not my sidekick.  Hannah!”

 

But Hannah said nothing.  She just looked down at the jacket, and pressed her lips into a thin line.

 

Ashley sat back, hands splayed on the bed behind her, and thought.  “Did you ever knooow—”

 

“Stop,” Hannah said, interrupting her.

 

“—that you’re my heeeeroooooo.”

 

Hannah grabbed one of Ashley’s mother’s pillows, and brought it around with a tremendous thwack to Ashley’s midsection.  Ashley playfully feigned much greater injury, rolling onto her side and groaning loudly, and the two of them descended into giggles.

 

“Okay, well,” she said eventually, “if you’re not going as Buffy I need to find something else for me.  Nobody is going to get this at all.”

 

“No!” Hannah said, gasping.  “It looks so good!”

 

“You're forcing my hand," Ashley said, holding her hands out, palm up, as if to say what can I do?  "I guess this is for the best.  Not enough people have seen Underworld to know who I am anyway."

 

At this, Hannah sputtered.  "No!  Y-y-you look amazing!  That jacket, and those guns!"

 

She turned to her shorter girlfriend, as they sat next to each other, and took her hands.  "When you tell me that, I feel really good about myself."

 

Hannah blinked, and Ashley blushed.

 

"It’s something my therapist has been trying to get me to do."

 

"I didn't know you still saw a therapist," Hannah said, softly.  Then she added, "I miss your dad too.  He was awesome."

 

Ashely nodded fiercely, sniffed hard, and sat up straight.  Then sniffed again.  "Me and mom both go."  She licked her lips, and added, "It feels weird when people say something nice to me, or about me or whatever, but Katie says it's important to let people give you compliments sometimes."

 

"Really?"

 

Ashley nodded, and looked over.  "She said compliments only really mean something if they come from someone who matters.  You matter, so..."

 

Hannah blushed like the rising dawn, until her cheeks were just red seas dotted with freckle islands.  "Is Katie your therapist?"

 

Ashley nodded.  "I think you would look really good as Buffy.  Like, amazing.  Nevermind that it goes with my costume.  You would look awesome."

 

Hannah licked her lips and shyly met her gaze.  "Really?"

 

"Really."

 

The little brunette looked down at the jacket, took a deep breath, and nodded.  "I'll try it on," she said, reluctantly.

 

Ashley smiled and said, "If you don’t like it, you can switch back."

 

"Promise?"

 

She nodded vigorously.

 

"You always did this, you know."

 

Ashley paused, looked around, and frowned.  "Me?"

 

"You drew me out of my shell.  Pushed me out of my comfort zone, but held my hand the whole time."

 

"What do you mean, did?"  The use of the past tense confused Ashley in a way that her fifteen year old self couldn't quite grasp.  She furrowed her brow and looked around.  It was raining outside, so she made a mental note to grab umbrellas when they left for the party.

 

"If you're wondering why she spent so long trying to call you, and email you, and text you, and showing up at your work or at home… If you're wondering why, ten years later, she would stand outside in a thunderstorm for you, this is why.  You made her feel special."

 

Ashley stammered, "Who is she, and why—"  Her memory caught up with her then, and Ashley bounced to her feet.  "You!"

 

"Me," Hannah said.  She folded her hands in her lap.  "You were a good girlfriend.  I hope you know that."

 

"Of course I know that," Ashley shouted.  "I'm not the one who…"  She trailed off as she realized they'd had this conversation before, and grunted in frustration.

 

Hannah shook her head.  "You lied to everyone that it was all her fault, which was bad, but the bigger lie was the one you sometimes tell yourself while drunk, that you’re better off without her because you were never good enough for her anyway.  You were."

 

Ashley, ironically, did not know how to take this compliment, and her face screwed into a twisted expression of disbelief and anger.  "I'm over Hannah."

 

Hannah smiled, genuinely  and said, "That's the biggest lie of ‘em all."  Then she added, "Six years, ten months, fifteen days."

 

Ashley hurled herself, bodily, into the hall, and fled.

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