A lot of people say “War is hell,” but, you know what? It ain’t that bad, really. … Except… that’s not true. Not in the slightest. War is hell. It’s a meat grinder, sending in young men and women with aspirations of valor, nobility and greatness, and spitting them out broken, scarred, traumatized, or worse… in a fucking crate. I was fortunate enough to have an easy and relatively safe deployment, but others… I slam my hands down on the desk in front of me and shoot to my feet, frantically scanning the courtyard from my window as I attempt to locate my friend. My sudden and violent action sends the half-full cup of coffee spiraling into the air where it has now suspended itself, a flurry of brown liquid frozen in time as it bouquets from its small tin home. I stare at the surreal beauty of its time-imprisoned dance, rapidly solidifying the conclusion I had already come to: This is a dream. Turning my attention back to the courtyard, I see the earth surrounding our base already beginning its catastrophic descent, slowly falling away towards infinite blackness. This place won’t hold for long, which means I don’t have time to waste. I immediately sprint towards the stairs, blasting past PFC Hennesy. He is statuesque, neither moving nor making eye contact with me as I dart around him and down the stairs. He’s only a figment of my memory right now, and he’s not important. Not nearly as important as… I slam through the door leading to the courtyard. The barrier holds no discernable weight and makes no noise as it crashes open. I pass by two other enlisted who are also stuck in place, mid-stride and holding the next thought of their conversation perpetually as they flicker and threaten to fade from existence at any moment. The world and its players are a projection of my sleeping subconscious. The only sound I can hear is the steady beating of my own heart. I can’t focus on the strangeness around me. The more I get distracted, the more likely I am to wake up before- Standing across the courtyard from me is the figure I seek. His feathered wings ripple slightly, seeming to be gently swayed by a wind that isn’t there. Before I shout his name, before I’m even within eyeshot of him, he gazes in my direction with a kind, brotherly smile. He opens his arms as I charge towards him, anticipating… knowing my next move. His words pierce the silence. “Heya, Anon.” “WESTON!” I collide with him, throwing my arms around him in a massive hug which he returns. I already feel the tears forming in my eyes. “Weston! Holy shit, I fucking missed you, dude!” He gently pats my back. “I know, man. I know.” After a moment, he steps back, still holding my shoulders as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Come on, Aimbot. I know this is just a dream, but can the gay shit, alright?” We both chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. I just… man. I have so much to talk with you about. I didn’t want to waste any time, considering…” I glance around myself, noting the rapidly oscillating sky and displacing earth. He shrugs. “Funny thing about dreams. You never know how long you’ve got. But chat with me. We’ve got some time.” He plops down on the ground, crossing his legs underneath him as his wings flutter to soften his quick descent. I follow suit, taking a seat on the dirt next to him. “Where the hell do I start? Everything since I came home… it’s all been a whirlwind. I guess most importantly: I married Lucy.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah? That’s the broad you told me about that I reminded you of, right?” I nod. He was the only person I ever told about Lucy during my deployment. Felt it was sort of an obligation since he looked how he did and, because of it, was so reminiscent through no fault of his own. Of course, he used the opportunity to call me a big homo queer, causing both of us to laugh. He was always a smartass, but that’s what I liked about him. I speak up again. “Things haven’t been easy, but… she’s improved so much. When I first got home, she fell way short of where I hoped she’d be. Yeah, she turned into the trad wife I always dreamt of bagging one day when I was a lonely teen, but she didn’t fix any of her friendships and was still struggling with preening. She’s come so far now, and I’m really proud of her.” He gives me a kind smile. “You’ve come an awfully long way yourself, Anon. Hell, this is the best shape I’ve been in during one of your dreams about me in a long time!” I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up, you prick. You think I can help that?! You’re the asshole that blew up in front of me.” We both laugh again. As our mirth dies down, he speaks seriously. “I mean it though, Anon. You shouldn’t overlook the progress you’ve made. You helped Lucy a ton, but I think she helped you, too.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You think? Aren’t you just, like, a figment of my subconscious or something?” He shrugs as he looks up at where the sun should be. I follow his eyes, gazing upon a colossal white orb that bathes the world in radiant light. It consumes the darkness around it, seeming to grow even larger with each passing moment. Contrary to staring at the real sun, I don’t feel my retinas burning out of my skull; instead, a calm, serene feeling of peace washes over me. I turn to Weston again. A small silver crucifix dangles from his neck in front of his ACU jacket. I assume it fell forward when he took a seat; brass would give him a verbal lashing if they saw that hanging out. Good thing they’re all floating away to dreamscape oblivion right about now. I always knew Weston was a Christian, but we never really discussed it much. I wasn’t exactly a faithful sort when I was deployed, but now… Hey, what could it hurt to ask? I clear my throat and shift as I speak up. “Weston… what’s it like?” He turns to look at me. “Erm… heaven, or whatever.” A warm smile works across his face as he turns back to the increasingly brightening sky. “You have to see it for yourself, man.” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not a terribly convincing answer. Though, I guess if you are just a figment of-” He cuts me off as he meets my eyes once more. “Time’s just about up, bud.” He… is just a part of my dream, right? This is just a projection of my memories of him, some sort of way for my mind to cope with- Weston extends his hand, holding forth a single feather. I instinctively reach towards it, but my hand hesitates. Instead, I examine it for a moment. I can tell it’s the same feather that drifted down upon me before I lost consciousness on that horrific day. It’s the same feather that he held out to me as I was consumed by my nightmare in the hospital. It’s the same feather that represents my friend who I wanted so desperately to protect. And… … I don’t accept it. He retracts his arm, giving me a loving smile and a nod as the feather in his hand vanishes. My eyes well with tears again as the light above us scours away every shred of darkness that remains. I throw my arms around my friend while I still can. I don’t want to have to say goodbye already. He returns my hug and replies to my unspoken words as his form fades away in the brilliant, all-encompassing white light. “It’s not goodbye, Anon. Something tells me we’ll see each other again.” — “Anon… Anon…” I blink away the sleep that had so recently held me in its warm embrace, called back to the mortal realm by Lucy’s voice repeating my name. As my eyes regain their focus, I see her leaning over me from her side of the bed, her hands gently shaking my shoulders to draw me out of my dreaming state. I smile at her as I draw in my first large waking breath. “Good morning, Lucy.” She looks down at me not with a smile of her own, but with concern. “Are you okay, Anon?” I cock my head, unsure as to her meaning. “… Were you having a nightmare?” I consider her question for a moment. Unlike other times, the dream I woke from doesn’t fade away from my memory. I shake my head. “No… it wasn’t a nightmare.” This only seems to perplex Lucy further. “But… your eyes…” I reach a hand up to my face, discovering that tears are streaming down my cheeks. Startled by this revelation, I quickly snatch up a handful of tissues from the box on my nightstand, wiping away the residual remnants of my dream. I give Lucy an apologetic smile. “Sorry to freak you out like this. It wasn’t a nightmare… more like a… happy, yet sad memory.” But it wasn’t just a memory, was it? She gives me one more contemplative look before finally returning my smile as she leans forward to kiss me. I happily reciprocate. As she parts from me and slides out of bed, I glance at my phone. “Huh… we’re up a bit early.” Lucy nods as she heads towards the bathroom. “I don’t wanna go back to bed. We should talk more about tonight before we head into work.” Tonight… our meeting with Trish. When I got the message last night, Lucy and I were just about to fall asleep. The news broke us both out of our near-slumber and we spent another hour discussing the situation with one another. What should we expect, what will we do, how will we handle various possible outcomes… we tried to leave no stone unturned, but there are so many factors at play here, and so much riding on tonight. “If we do get a last try at fixing all this… it’ll probably be one shot and one shot only.” Reed’s words echo in my mind. Trish seemed so apologetic and ready to fix things when I visited her and Reed at their home, but that was before all of this went down. And even though Trish seemed to grow up a lot since high school… she’s still Trish. The few times I tried to be reasonable or even friendly with her back then, she always met me with begrudging tolerance at best and full-blown animosity at worst. She was a powder keg… one I tried my best to never ignite. And tonight… we’re walking right up to that powder keg while fully engulfed in flames. Lucy understands this all too well. She was friends with Trish for years, though she’s never told me exactly how the two of them met. For as emotional as Lucy could be back in high school, her temper still paled in comparison to Trish’s. The fact that she married Reed provided hope that his relatively calm demeanor would level her out a bit, but we don’t truly know how much she’s changed or grown since high school, if at all. As the two of us perform our morning rituals in preparation for the work day, we talk about the possibilities further. We run through hypotheticals, offer suggestions and provide encouragement to one another. This is Lucy’s show at the end of the day, but I plan to do everything in my power to ensure this goes the way we need it to. I can’t let Lucy down… not now, not when we’re so close. Since we were up so early, we have about an hour to kill before we have to leave. We spend that time on the couch with one another, going over our plan again and again. Though there are more contingencies than we can possibly account for, we do our best to cover our bases and work out how we’ll handle the most likely possibilities. She’s angry, and we are apologetic. We have to be as genuine as we can be and make it known that we didn’t mean any offense or pain by our mistakes in handling our communication with her and Reed. At the same time, we can’t make excuses, and we have to own up to those mistakes. Reed was able to accept our apology… we just have to hope that Trish will, too. Lucy spends the last ten minutes of our time together this morning in my arms, resting against my chest as I gently rub her back. She shifts slightly, nuzzling closer to me as she breathes slowly. Neither of us speak; we merely comfort one another in preparation for the coming trial. We’ve got about ten hours between then and now; thankfully, most of that will be consumed by the distraction of our work, though my work is less distracting and more tedious. At least Lucy’s kids will keep her mind busy. We reluctantly let each other go and say goodbye for the day, sealing our brief farewell with an embrace and a kiss at our doorstep. Lucy’s hand lingers in mine as long as it can before we move too far apart from one another for the touch to continue. With a final look from above our cars, I remind Lucy once more that I love her. She musters the best smile she can and repeats the sentiment back to me. Just a work day ahead of us, then we’ll meet back here, and then… terminus. — The two of us stare up at the two-story home that rests at 1792 Pickerd Street. Its classic structure seems to stand out even more so than before. Flanked on both sides by modernized constructions that pale in comparison, it almost gives off an imposing presence, looming over the street like a shadow. Of course, the impending meeting within lends much to the overbearing visage of the structure; if we were here to meet with our friends for a pleasant dinner, the home would appear warm and welcoming. At this moment, only a foreboding chill can be felt by gazing upon this place. The maple tree’s crown has mostly fallen now, the front yard of the familiar house awash in a sea of red leaves. An overly hopeful vision of me helping Reed rake up his yard as we catch up on old times while occasionally taking sips from chilled cans of Agri-Cola enters my imagination for a moment. I shake away the scenario; I have to focus on now, otherwise friendly yard work nor any other meetings between us as friends will ever happen again. Lucy helps bring me back to reality as she circles the car and quickly takes my hand in hers. She doesn’t look away from the house, keeping her eyes locked on our destination as she breathes as steadily as she can manage. We texted one another throughout the day, offering encouragement and loving words to keep us going. We did our best to mentally jazz one another up in the car on the way here, too, but now that we’re here… the reality of the situation takes hold. I glance at Lucy and gently squeeze her hand. When she returns my look, I give her a subtle nod. “No matter what happens, Lucy… I’ll still love you.” She draws in a slow, steady breath; as she releases it, she nods back to me. I give her a tender smile. “Let’s do our best.” She looks back at the house and steels her resolve. I let her take the first step, immediately following along with her and keeping pace as we work our way up to the front door. We do not have to ring the doorbell. As we arrive at the front step, the door slowly opens. Reed stands on the other side of the portal, meeting our eyes with his own. They are half-lidded and seemingly vacant; if I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was stoned out of his gourd, but my knowledge of his sobriety combined with the almost unnoticeable darting of his pupils from Lucy to me belie his outward appearance. He’s here mentally, and he knows what’s about to go down. He offers no verbal greeting nor handshake. He merely extends his fingers towards the living room, beckoning the two of us into his home. We offer him subtle nods of thanks as we pass by, following his guiding hand towards our destination. In the armchair across from the couch, the same armchair in which I bounced a delighted little half-triceratops, half-velociraptor baby on my knee only a few weeks ago, sits the final person with whom we need to make amends. She does not make eye contact with us as we enter the room, electing to keep her gaze averted to the side and out the window. The air around us seems to darken, portenting the coming discussion in an almost supernaturally ominous manner. With one last stride, we both cross the living room and take a seat next to one another on the couch across from Trish. Reed enters after closing the front door, moving between us for only a moment to place himself tenuously on the adjacent loveseat, positioning himself as a referee between two boxers as they tap gloves and await the bell. Though I truly hope that it won’t actually come to the two of them trading blows, the energy in the air does not preclude the possibility. Lucy and I await Trish’s move, whatever that move might be. Silence hangs between the four of us. I glance over at the empty playpen that housed Patty on my last visit. She is absent; I assume she’s upstairs in her room, a good move considering the coming confrontation. I know Lucy would love to meet her, but we have to fix this first. If we can’t make amends, there will be no play dates between our children. I hope… I pray we can fix this. After several sickening moments, Trish finally turns to us. Her purple eyes scan the two of us as she breathes steadily, her pursed lips curled downward in a notable frown. Her eyes linger on Lucy and she takes a deep breath before finally speaking. “... Well?” Both of us understand what she means. Lucy glances down as she steadies herself. She prepared for this and knows what must be said. “Trish… I’m so sorry. Anon and I both… we’re sorry that we didn’t contact you sooner. It was inconsiderate and selfish of us, and we should have let you know what was going on. That was wrong of us, and I’m sorry.” I echo her sentiment, keeping my own words brief to not overwhelm the point. “I’m sorry too, Trish.” Trish glances at me for a moment before looking back to Lucy. She stares at her for several moments, considering her words. Her eyes scan Lucy’s face for discrepancy or disingenuousness. She finds neither. The subtle click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth is the only sound that breaks the silence until she finally speaks, letting out a sigh as she delivers her response. “... Yeah. Nah. I didn’t think that would do it.” I give a quick glance over to Lucy as she cocks her head in confusion. Responding to our confusion, Trish leans forward, her eyes widening in anger before she clarifies. “I do not accept your apology.” Her words reverberate in my head. I replay them over and over, filling the silence that has claimed the space around us with my mind’s voice. I try to meet Trish’s eyes, but she remains laser focused on Lucy, poised to pounce on whatever Lucy says in reply. Reed meekly shrinks into his chair, staring at the floor between us all. I don’t think we can count on him to rein Trish in… not yet, at least. I know he wants things between us to heal, but he can’t change Trish’s mind by himself. We were caught off guard, but we prepared for this. We knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but we aren’t going to give up yet. Lucy takes a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with her old friend. “Trish, I know we screwed up. We got swept up in everything that-” Trish cuts her off. “Swept up? You got swept up. To the point where you weren’t able to let us know what the fuck happened for a week?!” She pinches the bridge of her snout, her fingers closing atop where the horn above her nostrils protrudes upwards. It’s a gesture I saw many times back in high school, and one I anticipated seeing again today. “Do you have any idea how stressful that was? Any at all?” Lucy’s head hangs in shame. “... Yes. Reed-” “Yeah, Reed let you know. Thanks for at least reaching out to him.” She glares at her husband, his gaze still affixed to nothing in particular in the center of the carpet. Her eyes fire back to Lucy. “I was losing my goddamn mind, and Reed… Raptor Jesus, Reed thought the whole fucking thing was his fault! We barely slept.” Lucy’s eyes dart back and forth as she desperately tries to find her next words. She looks back up to Trish with a pleading expression. “Trish, if you’ll just let me explain-” Trish raises a hand. “Not interested. Reed already filled me in. I’m sorry you were in the hospital and that you went through that, but with how quickly you recovered, nothing prevented you from picking up your fucking phone.” Her eyes snap towards me as her voice intensifies. “Either of you.” I know this is Lucy’s fight, but I need to try to help. “We fucked up, Trish. We acknowledge that. What can we do to make this right?” Her nostrils flare in my direction and she bares her teeth as she growls out the words. “Fuck off from my life, for starters.” Finally, Reed steps in, if only for a brief moment. “Trish…” She glances in his direction, her expression softening an almost imperceptible amount. She lets out an irritated huff and looks away. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.” Lucy cocks her head. “... Why did you agree to this?” Trish’s attention turns to Lucy again, but she doesn’t fire off an instantaneous reply. Lucy continues. “If you’ve already made up your mind about us, why even invite us over?” Trish keeps her eyes affixed on Lucy, but still doesn’t answer. Good job, Lucy, that was a good move. However, the maneuver doesn’t pay off; Trish seems to realize the corner she got herself in and leans forward, speaking deliberately. “I made a mistake. Maybe I just wanted to see if an apology could make everything right. It didn’t. It’s obvious I’m wasting my time.” Almost in slow motion, I watch as the words begin forming themselves in Trish’s mind. She’s about to tell us to leave. If that happens… it’s over. I have to do something. “What about everything you said to me the last time I was here?” All eyes turn my way. “You invited me into your home and you poured out your heart to me. You asked me to relay your words to Lucy, but I told you that you could tell her those things yourself. I wanted the friendship between the two of you to be repaired, and so did you.” She calculates my words, not snapping back at me with an instant rebuttal or attack. A dozen different ways to bookend my sentiment spring to mind, ranging from accusatory and argumentative to full-on begging. I settle on a diplomatic middle ground: “... Can you still do that? Do you still want that?” She maintains eye contact with me for a deathly silent moment before finally looking down, her gaze fixating on a point close to the one Reed has been thoroughly examining for these past several agonizing minutes. Her brow furrows as she sifts through her thoughts. I think this is good. Lucy tentatively agrees by squeezing her fingers around mine. Our hands have not parted from one another since we approached the house, a thin film of our combined sweat slowly accumulating between our palms. I dare not release her grasp to wipe the sweat away; our hands will remain connected until we are done here. Slowly, Trish’s head climbs once more to affix her gaze upon her old friend. The anger in her eyes has been temporarily replaced with sorrow. She takes a deep breath before speaking. “I did want that. Hell, I do want that. I meant every word of what I said back then, how sorry I was about everything that went down at prom, how fucked up it was for me to behave the way I did. I owned up to my mistakes.” She pauses before her eyes narrow. “... You never did.” Lucy blinks before responding. “You didn’t give me a chance to-” Trish crosses her arms and shakes her head, her posture slumping further back into her chair. “You’ve already proven your character. You haven’t changed at all since high school.” Lucy’s mouth hangs open, as does mine. She presses on. “You were selfish and self-centered back then, and you still are now. You don’t give a shit about anyone besides yourself.” Her attention turns to me, her eyes scanning me up and down as her lip noticeably curls. “Well… besides maybe him.” Lucy leans forward, desperately trying to get a word in. “But I have changed, Trish! I’m not the same-” Trish cuts her off again. “Of course! What’s the flavor of the month this time? Trad housewife? And once that’s run its course, what next?” I feel the fingers of my free hand curling into a ball. I try desperately to conceal the growing anger that’s bubbling inside of me. Trish is really pushing it right now, but we can’t do anything but take the lumps. If we want to have any chance of repairing this damage, we can’t snap back at her in anger; she’ll win that verbal fight immediately and promptly tell us to fuck off forever. She barrels forward. “It didn’t matter if you were an enbie punk rocker, a nerdy Whovian, a misunderstood teenage folk songwriter or even a fucking pirate princess. It was always about you. You were the center of the universe. You were the most important person in the world. You were the one in front of everyone else on stage, with the brightest lights all aimed at you. And us?” She gestures to herself and Reed as she speaks. “Just an afterthought. A burden. Something to be used until we were no longer useful, then discarded like the worthless trash we obviously are.” Reed glances up at his wife and speaks up. “Trish, you’re not being fair.” She immediately gets defensive. “I’m not? What have I been unfair about? If Lucy had, in fact, changed, why wouldn’t she have called us? To let us know she was okay, to tell us what happened, to give us a reason to not worry our fucking heads off over her after she doesn’t show at our three-year-overdue reunion dinner?! What about her actions seems unselfish to you, huh?” I speak up. “We made a mistake. Lucy and I both. We’re admitting that, and we’re apologizing for it. This wasn’t Lucy’s doing alone; I’m at fault, too.” Her icy gaze turns my way once more. “Ah, and of course there’s Anon. The knight in shining armor who swept in to rescue Lucy from her menacing, hurtful, manipulative best friend. Good thing you knew what was best for her after knowing her a whopping five months. Really put me and my ten plus years of experience to shame.” Before I can speak, her head whips in Lucy’s direction again. Tears begin forming in Trish’s eyes as she practically spews the words forth. “Was I really that bad? Was I such an awful friend for trying to help you? Yes, I fucked up and I pushed too hard. I thought I had all the answers when I didn’t, but for God’s sake, I was trying. I was trying to help my friend who was lost, scared, and felt like she didn’t belong in this world. I would lie awake, terrified that you wouldn’t come into school the next day or ever again, hearing some half-hearted announcement in homeroom that you had committed suicide. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to be happy.” Tears are streaming down Trish’s face now. She chokes out her words. “Maybe I was a shitty friend… but at least I tried, and at least I considered you. You never did that for me. You were selfish then, and you’re selfish now. And I… I just can’t deal with it again. I can’t go through that heartbreak again.” I have no words with which to respond. None of the endless scenarios Lucy and I played through led us to an outcome like this. Lucy is similarly silent, her head lowered in resignation. Reed’s head hangs so low that his short orange hair obscures his eyes from view. Trish’s breath hitches as she draws it in with finality. I try to open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. She speaks quietly and remorsefully. “... I’m sorry. You should leave.” She stands from her chair and takes a few steps towards the dining room, turning her back to us as she crosses her arms. Her tail hangs motionless behind her. The gesture is decisive. We failed. Without a word, Lucy stands and lets go of my hand. My heart nearly beats out of my chest but I still can’t find words. I desperately want to keep this from happening, but I just don’t know what to say. Do I throw myself on my face and beg? Do I try to get Reed to talk some sense into her?! What do I- Lucy looks down at me… and smiles. Tears slide down her cheeks, but she offers a faint smile through it all. Her hand lightly rests on my shoulder for a moment before she moves past me towards the front door. She gently pulls it open and steps outside, out of my line of sight. I hear the latch click behind her. That’s it. It’s over. Despite our best efforts and all the apologizing we could muster, we still lost. I feel like I’m going to throw up. What did I do wrong? What did we miss? Trish wouldn’t even hear our reasoning or have our apologies. I just didn’t know how deeply she was hurt. My head is spinning. I look over at Reed who still sits motionless. He tried to help us out a bit, but he couldn’t fix this for us. All he could do was watch it crumble. He wipes at his face with the backs of his hands, trying to conceal his own tears. God damnit. I wanted to be friends with both of them, but now he’s out of the picture, too. I can’t move my legs. Trish continues standing with her back towards me and the door that Lucy showed herself out of. I need to go to Lucy now. I told her I’d still love her even if we failed here today, and that’s still true. She needs me now more than ever. … Why won’t my legs move? I consciously try to lift myself from the couch but my muscles won’t cooperate. I feel as though I’m frozen in place. I… don’t think I’m having a stroke. I’m way too young for that, anyway. But… why can’t I move? … It was something about the way Lucy looked at me… … She told me something with her eyes… with her smile… … She has another ace to play. I turn towards the front door as it opens again. Lucy carefully maneuvers herself into the home for a second time… as she carries something. Reed’s head lifts to examine the person entering his home. He cocks his head in confusion, his brow furrowing at the unexpected turn of events. Trish keeps her back turned towards us, but her head shifts almost imperceptibly. Lucy gently sets her guitar case on the coffee table and clicks it open. I had completely forgotten it was in our car trunk since the picnic. The acoustic guitar that I had held out to her in my gambit to snap her out of her malaise and get that fire back inside of her now rises into her hands from its home once more. She takes a seat on the couch next to me again, propping the instrument in her lap as her hands find their positions. Trish still keeps her back turned to us, but her shoulders seem to lift slightly in anticipation. Her tail twitches. She’s listening. Lucy takes a deep breath and glides her fingers to a set of frets, pressing down on the strings. She does not strum, but rather begins by plucking a few of them, building a chord out of singular notes. From the very first sounds reverberated from the hollowed wooden body, Trish recognizes the tune. She clasps her arms around herself, still not turning towards us but listening as intently as she can as Lucy’s fingers slowly dance across the shape of the instrument. It’s not until the lyrics begin that I recall the song myself. It was a song I had only ever heard once… and one that I was not meant to hear at all… — Damnit. I forgot my fucking backpack. I was in such a stupid hurry to get out of that auditorium before Fang and the others caught onto my stupid slip-up that I left it behind in one of the stupid seats. I just had to open my dumbass mouth and insert my foot directly into it by way of bringing up pizza in the auditorium… just like there had been on the night of VVURM DRAMA’s disastrous concert, the disastrous concert they all thought I was nowhere near. Well, my cover story about the late library book should hold up, unless I go sauntering back into the auditorium so soon after leaving. Or if they notice my bookbag, that would logically hold this overdue library book. Shit. Well, there’s nothing to do but wait it out at that point. I let out a quiet sigh as I sit next to the side entrance to the auditorium stage. It’s a disused door at the end of a dead-end hallway that only the theater kids ever utilize when they’re putting on one of their cringe-worthy performances. Of course, I haven’t seen one yet since I just transferred in and their spring performance is still a couple months away, but if my many years on the internet have taught me anything, it’s that baseless critique is just as valid as regular critique. Thankfully, the musty old wrestling mats they decided to pile into this corner offer a decent backrest as I wait for them to leave. The bright side is I get to listen to them jam and workshop a bit with Fang actually playing an instrument she knows. Even with the muffled sounds through the thick wooden door, the quality is miles apart from when she was playing bass. She’s not a bad bassist, per se, but she definitely doesn’t know her way around it like she does the guitar. And the sound of her guitar in harmony with Trish’s bass and Reed’s drums is a night and day difference from the absolute disaster that was their ill-fated “double bass” strategy. I notice my head unconsciously bobbing in time to their tunes, interrupted occasionally by one of them pausing and muttering something I can’t quite make out before picking up again. I guess this is the creative process; the audience gets to see the finished product, but there’s a lot of work and rework that goes into practice. After a few songs, I hear the clatter of Reed’s drumsticks as he sets them down and the muffled goodbyes the three bandmates begin offering one another. I crack open the door just a hair to peek into the auditorium; based on the position of the door and the red stage curtain that obscures my line of sight, none of them should notice a thing. Of course, I can’t see shit, either. I only barely make out the silhouette of Reed’s tail as he heads out of the auditorium “Catch ya later, compadres.” I imagine him lazily lifting a hand as he saunters away, but the only clue I have to his actual whereabouts now is the sound of the main entrance we always use kerchunking open and, a moment later, latching shut once more at the behest of its hydraulic closing apparatus. Through the crack in the door, I can make out Trish’s words, though she and Fang are still about thirty feet away and on the other side of a heavy stage curtain. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Of course, he gets to leave his drum set sitting here until they need the stage for something else.” I can barely see Fang’s shoulder through a tiny space between the curtains. She shrugs. “I mean, it’d be a pain in the ass for him to tear that down every day. A lot easier for us to stow our guitars, plus I don’t think anyone’s gonna walk out the front door with a whole ass drum kit.” Trish chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’, seeing some dipshit trying to lug everything out in their arms.” She puts on a fake, deepened voice: “‘Scuse me, ma’am. Mind gettin’ the door for me? I’m a bit encumbered…’” They both laugh. Their mirth dies down and they get back to packing up their things. The opening clasps of a guitar case fill the air before Trish speaks up again. “Um… hey, Fang…” “Yeah?” Silence for a moment. I can almost hear Trish fidgeting before she replies. “Uh… I was… well, since you’ve got the guitar here and all…” She pauses, seeming to struggle to form the words. “Could you… play that one song?” Fang doesn’t reply immediately. Trish fills the awkward silence. “S’been forever since I’ve heard it, since… ya know, you haven’t been on the guitar…” I furrow my brow. Eavesdropper though I am, I have no clue what the hell she’s talking about. I mean, I know Fang was playing the guitar for a bit before Trish talked her into the travesty of double bass, but do they have some song they couldn’t play without Fang on guitar? Trish lets out an embarrassed huff. “Ah, forget it. It’s just a stupid-” Fang cuts her off. “Of course I can.” I can hear the smile in her voice as she speaks. She steps across the stage to plug her guitar in once more and takes a seat on the stage. Trish joins her; I can only see their shadows under the curtain, but the sound of Fang’s guitar carries to me perfectly. No effect pedals crunch the sound of her guitar, leaving only the nearly-acoustic sound to weave the melody. The tune is simple, but carries a haunting beauty to it. Fang speaks once more before beginning to sing: “I wrote it for us, after all.” All it took was sitting next to you in the second grade When you smiled at me and giggled at the corny joke I made The teacher glared at me and made me move a desk away But our bond already formed, we became friends on that day You loved the same bands that I loved, we hated the same classes We could make each other laugh so hard we’d fall down on our asses We both knew that we were different, we both knew we were the same Though apart we were just embers, brought together we’re aflame And if the heavens fall down, raining fire from the sky And if the earth cracks open with cacophonous cry And if the oceans boil over and we all collapse to dust I know I won’t be scared because it’ll always be us Until the end of time Until the end of time “Thick as thieves”, they called us, but who were they to say? They were just jealous we had so much fun on each and every day You were the only reason that I even wanted to go to school You were the first and only person who ever told me I was cool I remember the day when I first played a song for you I know I sucked but you still smiled and asked if you could join in, too I didn’t know what to say, but you took me by the hand And said that you would learn the bass so we could both play in a band And if the heavens fall down, raining brimstone from the sky And if the earth splinters open with a dissonant cry And if the seas consume the land and we all dissolve to dust I know I won’t be scared because it’ll always be us Until the end of time Until we run out of time As I sit in silent darkness, feeling frightened and alone I wish that I could leave this house that I just cannot call a home So instead I write my songs, passing pen across the page And dream of when we hit it big, with lights upon the stage Can you hear the crowd roar? Can you hear them shout your name? I know that if we hold on, we both can capture all that fame But even if we never make it big, if it isn’t meant to be We will always have each other, it’ll always be you and me Ohhhh And if the heavens fall down, raining fire from the sky And if the earth cracks open with cacophonous cry And if the oceans boil over and we all return to dust I know I will be at peace because at least we will have us Until the end of time At the end of time For now we still have time … As the final notes drift from Lucy’s acoustic guitar and lose themselves in the ceiling of Trish and Reed’s living room, I notice the glistening droplets that have fallen onto the centermost frets of the instrument. Her lip quivers as she gazes at Trish, back still facing us. She didn’t move a muscle throughout the entire song. After a long, silent moment, she finally moves. Her head lowers slightly before she slowly turns towards Lucy. Streams of tears roll down her cheeks. Only when she opens her mouth to speak does she begin trembling. “I… can’t believe you still remember that stupid song…” More tears form in Lucy’s eyes. “I would never forget it.” She takes as steadying of a breath as she can before continuing. “I was selfish, and self-centered. And I know I was a bad friend at times. But… I loved you, and I still do. You meant so much to me growing up. You were my best friend…” She can barely choke out the words. “You are my best friend... until the end of time.” At once, Trish dives across the room and towards Lucy as she bursts into a loud sob. I quickly catch the guitar as it flies from Lucy’s hands, an afterthought in comparison to embracing her friend. Her wings envelop both of them as she joins Trish in opening the floodgates, both women pouring out all of their emotions in their tears. Reed brings a hand to his snout as his own tears fall, and I round out the group, unable to keep my emotions from escaping my tear ducts. Catharsis. Release. Unburdening. It all flows forth, escaping Lucy and Trish in heaving sobs and gulped air. They hold one another for dear life, fearing that if they release from their hug that they will lose the friendship they so recently regained. They finally have each other again. As their tears slow and their composure steadies, they finally find the ability to separate enough to meet one another’s eyes. Lucy speaks first. “Trish… I’m so sorry. For everything. I was selfish, and you deserved better than that.” Trish shakes her head, her nose horn dangerously close to Lucy’s snout. “No. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I was awful to you when you wanted to make things right. I got so blinded by my anger that I couldn’t even see that.” Lucy hangs her head. “But I did screw up. I should have thought of you instead of myself.” Trish’s head lowers as well. “... It was tough. This past week has been really tough, but it’s because of how much I wanted to see you again. How I realized how much I wanted to be your friend again. When that fell through, and when I didn’t hear from you… I was scared.” She pauses for a moment as she gathers her thoughts before looking back up at Lucy. “I shifted all the blame to you and Anon… but I shouldn’t have. I convinced myself that the best thing to do would be to cut you out of my life again, but…” Her tears begin welling once more. “... I don’t want that. I want to be your friend again, Lucy.” Lucy pulls Trish into another hug, stroking her back as Trish sobs. No words exchange between them for several minutes as they remain in one another’s arms, reconnecting on an emotional level after too long apart. As they steady once more, Lucy speaks up. “I’m sorry that I put you through all this.” Trish lets out a small giggle and gently shakes her head as she wipes at her face with her sleeves. “We both screwed up. In high school, and here. Let’s put it behind us. Otherwise we’re gonna spend the next fifty years coming up with things to keep apologizing for.” Lucy giggles too as a small smile tugs at her lips. She lowers her head for a moment before looking back up at Trish, a playful glint appearing in her eye. “Bet I can come up with more things to apologize for.” Trish balks at this as a grin overtakes her. “The hell you can, I’ve got pages of notes upstairs!” Lucy’s grin widens. “Pages? I’ve got tomes.” They both burst out laughing, embracing once again. From beyond the pair on the couch next to me, I notice Reed offering me a beaming smile. Once my eyes meet his, he nods at me. We did it. … She did it. Lucy was able to make amends with Trish. I almost can’t believe it, but… then again, Lucy is an incredible woman. She hasn’t stopped astounding me… and I don’t know if she ever will. As they lean back from their hug once more, Lucy and Trish merely gaze into one another’s eyes for a moment. All the pain, grief and anger they had carried for so long is only a shadow of a memory now. They look at one another as they did back in high school, back when they would joke and laugh with one another, and with Reed, and, after a while, with me. The four of us… together again, as friends. Trish takes a deep breath and a loving smile spreads across her face. “So, Lucy… do you want to meet Patty?” Lucy’s eyes immediately begin welling with tears again. Her lip quivers as she answers. “Yes!”