So Happy I Could Die - 1/? [sequel to You've Got A Vicious Streak...]
-South Of Nowhere
-Ashley/Spencer, mentions of other pairings
-Post You've Got A Vicious Streak For Someone So Young. Angst and such. Title is a Lady Gaga song.
-And it doesn’t matter that they’ve met before, that they’ve wounded one another before, that they’ve already seen the end of their beginning.
-PG to possibly R
Notes - Yea. I couldn't leave them alone. I just couldn't. [lol]
Spencer finished her work on the film concerning Africa and then she took another job.
And another. And another. And another.
Pretty soon, it is December and she has not seen her apartment in almost a year. She wishes, for half a second, that she was still a little girl and going home to Ohio - where there might be snow on the pine trees and ice on the roads.
Christmas should have snow.
But it is the sandy beaches and the endless stream of human chatter that awaits her as she flies in from India, red-clay dirt still stuck under her fingernails and her skin now a burnished gold… easy enough to fit in with every other blonde woman in L.A.
And there is a layer of dust on her furniture and there are messages that need to be listened to and there is too much mail against her door - but Spencer just drops her bags and slides onto her couch, drifting to sleep… and she falls into slumber thinking that, even with the sun and the heat, it’s not so bad to make it back to her own little world two days before the biggest holiday of the year.
** ** **
Ashley finished her world tour, capping it off with a somewhat small affair in Paris and then she cut a live album back in New York - girls and boys at her feet as she played an acoustic guitar.
And then interviews. And then an awards show. And then time in the studio.
Pretty soon, it is December and Kyla is anxiously telling her it is time to come back to the west coast, time to do all those sisterly things one must when one of the sisters is getting hitched.
But even with the crowded flight of children screaming and parents sighing, Ashley is glad to be winging her way back to L.A. - the city of her misspent youth and the cradle that rocked her.
Sometimes gently, but mostly hard.
And she wonders what her father would think if he were still around, to see one of his daughters finally settling down and Ashley likes to think he would be smiling - just like a star.
** ** **
“Red and green still work for me, babe.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“A little bit, sure, but-“
“No. No, Aiden. We’ve had three months to do this and we waited too long and I want this to be perfect!”
“I know! I’m just joking around… Ashley, help me out here?”
“Ashley’s going to help me if she knows what is good for her. Otherwise, that red and green monstrosity can be her maid of honor dress.”
“…Ash?”
“What? Where the hell is she? God, can no one see what I am up against here!”
Ashley loves Kyla and Aiden.
She loves them together, like seeing the best of both worlds finally come together - peanut butter and chocolate - but they love to snip at each other and get worked up.
And while it is probably for the fun of making-up, Ashley needs a break from so much… domesticity.
Not that she is sad. Or bitter. Or envious.
Well, okay, that last one might be in there somewhere…
But at least it isn’t from some odd form of jealousy. It is just good ol’ fashioned envy - the kind one gets when you spend more and more time on your own, the kind that springs up… sometimes… just to remind you that the connections you’ve made are just too brief.
Kyla is the one to find her, rudely digging in Ashley’s purse and then shooting a dark look to Ashley herself.
“Your face might freeze like that. Imagine those wedding pictures.”
“You really gave up smoking? For good?”
“When did you pick it up?”
“Oh. Well. I always kind of smoked, usually if I have been drinking too much.”
“The things we learn…”
“Oh shut up, Ash. Vice is a part of life.”
“So says the bride to be.”
“God, he can be so stupid!”
“Uh huh.”
“And I love him like crazy.”
“Yep.”
“He wants to do surf and turf, but I’d like to have chicken. Or even tofu. What do you think?”
Maybe I should rethink these feelings of envy and just go with pity for these two.
“I think I am going to quit my music career.”
And while she could have thought of a better time to drop that bombshell - like not two days before Kyla and Aiden tie the knot, trying to upstage Christmas - Ashley is known for unpredictability.
It is part of her charm, part of her curse.
And it sure as hell can silence a room. Or a sister.
** ** **
“Bill. Bill. Overdue. Bill. Mom. Glen. Mom… again. Bill. Charity. Charity. Work. Charity. Work. Work. Junk. Bill…”
Spencer likes to say it out loud, likes to hear her own voice slightly echo against the walls of her apartment - tones coated with coffee and heavy sleep.
She woke up on the couch, day into night, and stumbled to her shower.
And pulsing hot water brought her back to life.
So, it is two in the morning and the mail is being dealt with.
“…Work. Check, very nice. Work. Bill. Junk. Junk. More junk…”
And the surname doesn’t send her into a tailspin anymore, the letters in gold and black calligraphy.
And even his name does not rile her up, not anymore, and Spencer feels a relief wash over her body at this fact.
Because she was almost certain, but not completely sure, that she had survived any of it - the break up or the hurt or the good-bye…
I did wonder, sometimes, if it was all some crazy dream. Something I made up and didn’t really live through.
But she had. And she did.
And when she sees the date on the thin piece of ivory stationary, Spencer’s only thought is if there is enough time to find a good dress for Kyla Davies wedding.
She plans to respond in the morning… later in the morning, that is… to the invitation and to go shopping sometime in the afternoon for the right outfit.
And she wonders… briefly… how all her rolls and rolls of burnt landscapes and war-torn faces and endless roads will stack up to actually seeing Ashley again.
But it is two in the morning and Spencer lets the thought float away just as quickly as it came.
** ** **
They discuss it over breakfast.
Or, rather, Kyla talks and questions and Aiden rolls his eyes and Ashley drinks her chai.
“I just want to know if you are sure. Have you thought this through, like really through? This is your dream, Ash.”
“And I’ve lived it, Ky. I’m done. I mean, I’ll still play some stuff and record… when I want to. But I just… I want to stop, you know. Stop running around and just… be. At least for a little while.”
The happy couple stare at her like she has grown another head and Ashley makes sure to sigh.
Loudly.
“If it makes you happy, then we’re happy… right, babe?” Aiden pipes up.
“Is this because of, you know-“
“Kyla, c’mon…”
“No, Aiden, it needs to be addressed-“
“What? Because of Spencer, is that what you mean?” Ashley says in between sips of her drink and their bickering.
And Aiden freezes up, just a little, like he always does.
Like he always probably will. It is his apology and his nature.
And Kyla stares, trying to pierce the answers out, like she always does.
Like she always probably will. It is her affection and her nature.
And, if Ashley were in the mood to travel that particular path, she could say… yes, in a way, it is because of Spencer and our last talk and the last time I saw her and the burden finally put down upon the ground - it is because I felt such love, because I felt such pain… it is Spencer, sure, but it is everything.
It is losing my father. It is the fear I always had… of rejection, of trying and failing.
And it is the fact that I succeeded anyway, on my own merit, and I didn’t falter… at least, not often.
It is everything, Kyla.
But Ashley opts for the simple answer, the one that batted about her head as she watched her sister try on dresses and Aiden hug Kyla tightly and the two of them gleefully showing Ashley their new place - pointing out where they will have the guest bedroom, just for her…
“As scary as the thought is, there will be little Dennison-Davies roaming around soon enough and… I’d like to be here for that.”
And Aiden’s eyes actually start to shine, tears threatening.
Kyla’s, too, and Ashley wants to look away - because she is still not great with revealing things and showing her hand and being this open.
It is still hard sometimes. It is still too much sometimes.
But this is a burden going down as well, a peace made and laid to rest and all three of them know it.
All three of them know what ghost is finally being set free.
“That’s good by me.” Kyla whispers, reaching out and taking Ashley’s left hand.
And Aiden nods in agreement, taking Ashley’s right hand.
When the phone rings and breaks the moment, Kyla gets up and Aiden releases his hold and Ashley settles back in her chair.
And she wonders what the old her would do now in order to tarnish this, to wreck it and make it agonizing - but that girl is gone and the world is so much better for it.
Ashley is so much better for it.
“Well, one more guest to mark off the list.” Kyla remarks and Aiden looks up from his plate.
“As in showing up or not?”
“As in showing up.”
“Cool. Who is it?”
“It’s Spencer.”
And the happy couple looks to Ashley, but they just find her smiling softly as she lounges her morning away, legs tucked underneath her and brown eyes aglow with another L.A. dawn.
** ** **
It goes off without any issues - despite Kyla’s nerves and Aiden sweaty hands - and people clap and tears are shed and the church carries the scent of a thousand more people who want God to bless a union.
And Spencer thinks that her next project should be about how the gay community should demand this right, too… even if they never really want to get married, even if they are atheists…
And Kyla is beautiful, all blinding white and hints of brown.
And Aiden is handsome, never one to look bad in much of anything, gaze full of happiness.
And people laugh, people smile, people take too many pictures at certain times and turn this holy place into a red carpet.
There might be two people up there, but it is still a Davies wedding after all.
And that brings Spencer to the prettiest girl there - and it doesn’t hurt to think that, doesn’t wound to admit it, doesn’t kill me to look and admire - by Kyla’s side and holding a simple bouquet of wildflowers, sleek white dress and untamed curls of hair and a grin adorning those lips.
Ashley Davies looks good.
And by good, I mean well. And by well, I mean… calm. And that is a new face, a new thing.
Spencer blinks and raises her own camera, a gift from her father after her first directing gig, and she takes the picture.
And Kyla sends a tiny wave her way (she looks giddy) and Aiden nods (he looks pleased) and Ashley tilts her head to the right - only slightly, but just enough to let me in on a secret, whatever that might be - and Spencer takes one more, grinning as the flash goes off and she steps back.
She steps back and wanders around the reception, snatching a flute of champagne and getting random shots of guests, of a buffet of… is that tofu?... and of flowers everywhere.
She didn’t bring a gift, because there are only so many toasters one can receive.
So, Spencer takes pictures and she will bind them up and - one day, soon - she’ll drop it off with the happy couple and they will hug and they will catch up… skimming over the bad years, focusing on only the nice ones…
And it will be a new face, a new thing.
And it will be good.
** ** **
“Go over there, you know you want to.”
And Kyla’s voice is close and warm and Ashley wraps her sister up in a hug again.
“I’ve not given you two my present yet.”
And Kyla doesn’t press anything, for which Ashley is grateful.
Because everything went as it should - from this beautiful day, with wreaths outside on streetlights and marriage on the inside of this church… from guests who joked that this counted as a double-holiday and celebrity magazines gushing (but not causing trouble, for once) and kids begging their parents to hurry - toys left at home and just begging to be played with.
Because it is Christmas and everyone is nicer than usual.
Because even L.A. has a heart and this is the one day that it shows it, without gumption and without gall.
Because her family now has a foundation in her sister and her best friend, a place where Ashley can forever land and she can almost feel her father watching… and approving…
“What is it then?” Kyla grins and Aiden hugs her from behind and Ashley leans back, walking with purpose to the back and grabbing her guitar and the crowd of people goes silent.
And Ashley feels a pair of blue eyes track her through a lens and she meets it head-on - and the flash goes off and they see one another amongst so many others and Spencer’s lips quirk upward… slowly, surely, so wonderfully… and Ashley just shakes her head in humor before gracing the pulpit area.
And she sings, giving it her all, her voice bouncing off these walls and against these pews and pushing at those large double doors.
And Kyla cries and Aiden watches quietly and everyone feels it - and it is love.
And even Ashley can’t stop it now, the winding of tears down her face and make-up going to hell and it doesn’t matter…
Because this is a special day.
And if I can’t cry now, when can I?
And Ashley feels a pair of blue eyes watch her, a mirror of joy in crystal rivers down Spencer’s cheeks - and when she finishes, people applaud and people pat her back and Kyla is so tightly about her and Aiden is kissing the side of her head and… and…
This is such a damn good day, isn’t it, God?
** ** **
“The DJ is kind of crap.”
“A little too Top 40, yes.”
“I keep expecting Britney Spears to pop up behind the guy to get her pay cut from this.”
“Or Jessica Simpson.”
“At least it isn’t Lindsey Lohan.”
“I kind of liked her album actually.”
“…Me, too. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Do you like the Go-Go’s?”
Spencer would call this segment in her personal film the ‘surreal’ one - because they are talking and, once upon a time, it would have been a cover for something else… whether for flirting or for anger or both…
And there is nothing of the latter two and there is only a hint of the former one.
It’s that new face again. That new and calm and good face.
“Only in the shower. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll carry your secret to the grave.”
“It’s like those childhood pacts, you know. Should we spit on our palms and shake on it?”
“Well, we have swapped spit before…”
And Spencer blushes and she doesn’t question why and she laughs, tipping her glass back and draining it. And Ashley grins and pops some tiny morsel into her mouth and Spencer catches the girl’s head moving - without consent - to the music being played.
“I like her.”
“Yea, so do I.”
“Feels like forever since I’ve heard music in the States.”
“Been going tribal for a while, eh?”
“There are no chargers in a tent by the Ganges, so no iPod to keep me sane.”
“I couldn’t live without mine. Sometimes it is good to hear something other than myself.”
And Ashley smiles self-consciously and Spencer’s fingers splay against her own thigh - just barely halting the act of reaching out and disrupting this… whatever it is… and the lights go down and Kyla and Aiden dance goofily to the thrumming bass and everyone hollers and everyone cat-calls.
“Oh my god…”
“Watch your mouth in here.”
“It’s the reception. God understands. And besides, if he is truly around, he’d blind me to this poor excuse for grinding they are doing.”
“Hey, don’t leave me here to suffer this alone.”
“Get this on film, though. I could use it as black-mail one day.”
“Split any monetary gain fifty-fifty?”
“Deal.”
“We never did shake on things.”
And they look at one another, a mixture of mirth and ease in their respective gazes, and they slide hands against one another - the tips of the fingers first, trailing the lines of the palms and then secured at the thumbs… solid and hot and Ashley is absent-mindedly caressing where her index finger touches Spencer’s wrist and Spencer captures this in her mind - replays it and relishes it and doesn’t fight it.
It is a new face. And I like it.
“Let’s dance.”
“Yea?”
“Yea.”
And so they do, along with many others, along with the happy couple.
They laugh and they don’t get too close - but they don’t stray too far either - and Spencer would call this the ‘girl meets girl’ segment to her personal film.
And it doesn’t matter that they’ve met before, that they’ve wounded one another before, that they’ve already seen the end of their beginning.
None of that matters now.
All that matters is this moment. And I like it.
I like it a lot.
** ** **
Six months later, Ashley is trying to decide if off-white would go better with blue or if she should just find a lighter shade of blue as a compliment to her new loft living room - and failing to make a decision, she just calls Spencer up and suggests a burger on the strip.
Spencer, editing a short film for a friend and getting bored with endless negatives about Albert Bierstadt - no matter how nice the visions of canyons - is up for anything that involves leaving her desk behind.
And when Ashley calls, she jumps on the opportunity.
They do this quite often now.
They exchanged numbers after the wedding, after Aiden and Kyla took off to the sound of tin cans for a honeymoon somewhere secluded and they talked a bit more as Spencer walked to her car - Ashley about ‘taking a break’ and Spencer about ‘working too much’ - and they said good-night.
They said they would keep in touch.
And so they did.
And they do.
“Where are you today?” Kyla’s voice glides over the phone lines and Ashley stretches her legs out, avoiding the constant steps of foot traffic and idly stirs her sweet tea with a spoon.
“Waiting on Spencer.”
“Oh I see…”
And Kyla can’t hide a damn thing, but Ashley does not jump to the bait - she does not get caught up in the knowing tone in her sister’s voice.
Because anyone with half a brain knows that Ashley loves Spencer.
But life isn’t simple and they’ve ‘been there, done that’ and she just likes having the girl back in her life.
Ashley won’t waste time longing for more.
They had more… and it didn’t work out. C'est la vie.
“And there she is, so bye.”
“But what about toni-“
Ashley knows she’ll be with Aiden and Kyla for dinner - it is their ritual now.
And Kyla will tell Ashley to move back in. And Aiden will cook and stay out of it.
And Ashley will break out the Scrabble, tell Kyla to spell something more challenging than ‘cat’ and thus her sister will be easily distracted by the thrill of competition.
“I know that look.”
“Shows that badly, hmm?”
“It’s your… ‘Kyla is driving me crazy’ look. Am I right?”
“Bingo, Miss Carlin. You win a prize.”
“Ooh, what?”
“You can have dinner with them tonight. How’s that sound?”
“Eh… no thanks.”
“Some friend you are.”
“I could, maybe, show up later. For moral support.”
“Better watch it, I might take you up on that.”
And Ashley smiles fondly at Spencer, watching the woman sit down and order and push her sunglasses atop her blonde hair - then, all the little details are taken care of and those blue eyes are on her… every bit of Spencer Carlin’s attention is on Ashley and she has to remind her mouth to work, to function normally.
Because, even after all this time and even after the evolution of what they once were… Ashley still thinks Spencer Carlin is outstandingly gorgeous - outside and within.
“She, uh, wants me to move back in. Again.”
“She likes taking care of you, I think.”
“Yea, she’ll make a great mother. I keep telling her to start popping out those kids, so I can catch my breath.”
“Aww, poor you, loved by so many…”
“Ha ha ha.”
“It suits you.”
“What does?”
“…Umm, I don’t know, being cared for. It… looks good on you.”
“Yea… well…”
And they do this, too.
They say things - things that one of them should catch and rein in before it gets loose, before it sprints free and hits a tender spot… before it hits the heart and makes an impact.
They say things and then they freeze up - because it is true and it is important and it makes them remember something long gone.
And it makes them wonder about what will be.
And Ashley can’t do that to herself. And Spencer can’t do that to herself either.
So, if they can’t laugh it off or change the subject, they claim sudden responsibilities and rush away.
It’s a form of running and Ashley wants to stop it, but she doesn’t know how.
The tightrope of their relationship is a strange one and there is no net below these days.
“…most things look good on me, right?”
And Spencer chuckles and Ashley grins and they both release the tension - saving it for another day, another meal, another time where they can ignore the elephant stampeding their way.
** ** **
Three months go by and Spencer dislikes the way her gut is twisting, the way it is curling inward and churning and the sensation is leaving her short-tempered with everyone.
She can’t focus on the film this week, all the guys in dresses and the leather and the dykes on bikes and the rainbows. Nor can she find the energy to spare for those bible-thumpers, carrying signs of hatred and of contempt, all under the banner of God.
She can’t keep her eyes on anything at all and she knows exactly why and it is driving her crazy.
Crazy like she can’t get a good shot of two girls kissing and she flips off her sound guy and staggers to an alley-way and wants to pull her hair out.
And it makes her feel like a child again, something taken away and she can’t get it back - she is in an adult time-out and she wants to scream - she wants to kick and punch and…
…and I don’t want to feel like this…
But she does feel so much and it has been building with every second they’ve spent with one another and Spencer didn’t think twice when Ashley told her about a date - didn’t think twice about meeting the woman (Lauren with the auburn hair and teasing smile), didn’t think twice when Ashley smiled that shy smile and didn’t think twice when watching them walk away hand-in-hand.
Because it is what people do. They move on and they heal and they seek out someone to love them - the whole them, the real them, the new them.
And Spencer had done the same, though each one was brief - special but brief.
Adriana from Brazil, working on a thesis about long term bird migration and with a wonderful way of touching my skin… or Bailey, with her infectious laugh and drinking until dawn and her sleepy lips following me from Scotland to Madrid and back again…
Spencer didn’t think about Ashley then, not even once, just happy to have the past behind her and to live in the here-and-now… happy to meet new women, to get to know them and to cherish whatever they might share with her. It was liberating, to love and be loved without restriction - without hesitation.
And she didn’t think about it, not when Ashley talked about the date and rolled her eyes… trying to act all nonchalant when things go well… and she didn’t think about it, not when Ashley rearranged a lunch and promised to make it up the next day… which I honestly didn’t believe she would do, but she did… Spencer just didn’t think about it.
It was Kyla and Aiden’s little party that messed things up and Spencer leans against these dirty bricks, tuning out the sounds of ‘I Will Survive’ from the street to her right.
They invited her and she came with wine and everyone was full of themselves that night.
Aiden, with his cock-sure grin and apron and too many beers. Kyla, with her giggling and whispering secrets in Spencer’s ear and stealing from everyone’s plate.
And Ashley breezed in, Lauren on her arm, and she winked at Spencer and Spencer grinned back… and it just… sort of…
Fuck, it just clicked right back into place and I saw Ashley - really saw her - hanging on that girl and kissing that girl’s mouth and dancing around and being… Ashley Davies.
The older version, the wiser version with that damned new face… and it was too beautiful for words.
She was too beautiful for words.
Too beautiful for Lauren and her black slacks and her witty bullshit about La Jolla.
Too beautiful for all of them… even Spencer herself…
Kyla, who catches everything and doesn’t always say it, was the one who found her - staring out the window with my alcohol-breath fogging up a patch of glass - and rubbed her back.
It was comforting and motherly and kind.
And Spencer bit her bottom lip to keep from sobbing.
Because everything was going so well, wasn’t it?
They had ended the vicious cycle and could forgive and forget and they made amends and everyone could then move forward… right?
“Not for nothing, Spencer, but she would come running. Just say the words and she’d come running.”
“I can’t do that, Kyla. I just can’t. Too much time has passed… and you can’t… reshape things like that.”
“If that helps you sleep at night…”
And the hand kept smoothing out the invisible wrinkles and Spencer bit down harder upon her lip, not drawing blood but causing immense pain.
Because I couldn’t do what Kyla suggested. I still can’t. I won’t ruin the progress we’ve made. I won’t try and claim what is not mine to have. Even if I want to. Especially if I want to.
That’s how Ashley found them.
And Ashley looked at the two of them with suspicion and with concern and Spencer ripped that sudden sadness away like a band-aid - eager to do the right thing, the only thing, the mature thing and be happy for her friend and keep moving on… keep moving ahead at all costs, Carlin…
“Hey, hey… wait… Spencer, tell me what is going on?”
“Nothing. Just reminiscing. Right, Kyla?”
“Yea, Ash, just, uh… memory lane and all that…”
And Kyla left Spencer there, the hand drifted down and the girl walked away and Ashley was studying her - bug under the microscope - and Spencer felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take a single lungful of air with those brown eyes so close.
But then Ashley’s hand was on her face, cupping her cheek so warmly and one single tear broke loose and soft fingers brushed it away.
“It’s okay…” Ashley whispered and Spencer found that old tale - the one where we couldn’t speak of our attraction boldly, so we used a boy as our go-between - brilliantly retold with those repeated words and that repeated action.
That old story was torn asunder and built up new, bright and full of potential and Ashley was so near and Spencer surged forward - a cannonball of awakened passion.
And it took a second, just a second, and then Ashley was kissing her back - it was painfully slow and delicious and…
Better than all the others. Better than every woman and every lover and every girl I thought I could date forever. Better than even the first kiss Ashley and I shared, in her room with her dad’s posters all over the walls and her messy bed. Better than all the others… so much better and so much more real and so fucking good…
That’s how Lauren found them.
“Spencer! You okay now? We’ve got two more reels to get and then it is margarita time!”
And she is crying, wiping it all away on her arm and pushing her head into the wall hard and she can hear cheering all along the street.
It is Pride and she should be capturing it… she should be living it and not falling in love with that girl who got away, that girl who ran away and came back and is her friend now…
But it is happening anyway.
And Spencer can’t seem to stop it.
“Ready!” She shouts and walks back around the corner, apologizes to the sound guy and gets the two reels down. And then she drinks margaritas and flirts with a drag king and dances until she can barely walk back home again - the tang of a pair of sweet lips on her tongue, the disconcerted feeling of screwing up no matter which way she goes.
And she tries to figure out the way to let Ashley go again, before she turns everyone’s world upside-down.
My own included.
** ** **
TBC
-Ashley/Spencer, mentions of other pairings
-Post You've Got A Vicious Streak For Someone So Young. Angst and such. Title is a Lady Gaga song.
-And it doesn’t matter that they’ve met before, that they’ve wounded one another before, that they’ve already seen the end of their beginning.
-PG to possibly R
Notes - Yea. I couldn't leave them alone. I just couldn't. [lol]
Spencer finished her work on the film concerning Africa and then she took another job.
And another. And another. And another.
Pretty soon, it is December and she has not seen her apartment in almost a year. She wishes, for half a second, that she was still a little girl and going home to Ohio - where there might be snow on the pine trees and ice on the roads.
Christmas should have snow.
But it is the sandy beaches and the endless stream of human chatter that awaits her as she flies in from India, red-clay dirt still stuck under her fingernails and her skin now a burnished gold… easy enough to fit in with every other blonde woman in L.A.
And there is a layer of dust on her furniture and there are messages that need to be listened to and there is too much mail against her door - but Spencer just drops her bags and slides onto her couch, drifting to sleep… and she falls into slumber thinking that, even with the sun and the heat, it’s not so bad to make it back to her own little world two days before the biggest holiday of the year.
** ** **
Ashley finished her world tour, capping it off with a somewhat small affair in Paris and then she cut a live album back in New York - girls and boys at her feet as she played an acoustic guitar.
And then interviews. And then an awards show. And then time in the studio.
Pretty soon, it is December and Kyla is anxiously telling her it is time to come back to the west coast, time to do all those sisterly things one must when one of the sisters is getting hitched.
But even with the crowded flight of children screaming and parents sighing, Ashley is glad to be winging her way back to L.A. - the city of her misspent youth and the cradle that rocked her.
Sometimes gently, but mostly hard.
And she wonders what her father would think if he were still around, to see one of his daughters finally settling down and Ashley likes to think he would be smiling - just like a star.
** ** **
“Red and green still work for me, babe.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“A little bit, sure, but-“
“No. No, Aiden. We’ve had three months to do this and we waited too long and I want this to be perfect!”
“I know! I’m just joking around… Ashley, help me out here?”
“Ashley’s going to help me if she knows what is good for her. Otherwise, that red and green monstrosity can be her maid of honor dress.”
“…Ash?”
“What? Where the hell is she? God, can no one see what I am up against here!”
Ashley loves Kyla and Aiden.
She loves them together, like seeing the best of both worlds finally come together - peanut butter and chocolate - but they love to snip at each other and get worked up.
And while it is probably for the fun of making-up, Ashley needs a break from so much… domesticity.
Not that she is sad. Or bitter. Or envious.
Well, okay, that last one might be in there somewhere…
But at least it isn’t from some odd form of jealousy. It is just good ol’ fashioned envy - the kind one gets when you spend more and more time on your own, the kind that springs up… sometimes… just to remind you that the connections you’ve made are just too brief.
Kyla is the one to find her, rudely digging in Ashley’s purse and then shooting a dark look to Ashley herself.
“Your face might freeze like that. Imagine those wedding pictures.”
“You really gave up smoking? For good?”
“When did you pick it up?”
“Oh. Well. I always kind of smoked, usually if I have been drinking too much.”
“The things we learn…”
“Oh shut up, Ash. Vice is a part of life.”
“So says the bride to be.”
“God, he can be so stupid!”
“Uh huh.”
“And I love him like crazy.”
“Yep.”
“He wants to do surf and turf, but I’d like to have chicken. Or even tofu. What do you think?”
Maybe I should rethink these feelings of envy and just go with pity for these two.
“I think I am going to quit my music career.”
And while she could have thought of a better time to drop that bombshell - like not two days before Kyla and Aiden tie the knot, trying to upstage Christmas - Ashley is known for unpredictability.
It is part of her charm, part of her curse.
And it sure as hell can silence a room. Or a sister.
** ** **
“Bill. Bill. Overdue. Bill. Mom. Glen. Mom… again. Bill. Charity. Charity. Work. Charity. Work. Work. Junk. Bill…”
Spencer likes to say it out loud, likes to hear her own voice slightly echo against the walls of her apartment - tones coated with coffee and heavy sleep.
She woke up on the couch, day into night, and stumbled to her shower.
And pulsing hot water brought her back to life.
So, it is two in the morning and the mail is being dealt with.
“…Work. Check, very nice. Work. Bill. Junk. Junk. More junk…”
And the surname doesn’t send her into a tailspin anymore, the letters in gold and black calligraphy.
And even his name does not rile her up, not anymore, and Spencer feels a relief wash over her body at this fact.
Because she was almost certain, but not completely sure, that she had survived any of it - the break up or the hurt or the good-bye…
I did wonder, sometimes, if it was all some crazy dream. Something I made up and didn’t really live through.
But she had. And she did.
And when she sees the date on the thin piece of ivory stationary, Spencer’s only thought is if there is enough time to find a good dress for Kyla Davies wedding.
She plans to respond in the morning… later in the morning, that is… to the invitation and to go shopping sometime in the afternoon for the right outfit.
And she wonders… briefly… how all her rolls and rolls of burnt landscapes and war-torn faces and endless roads will stack up to actually seeing Ashley again.
But it is two in the morning and Spencer lets the thought float away just as quickly as it came.
** ** **
They discuss it over breakfast.
Or, rather, Kyla talks and questions and Aiden rolls his eyes and Ashley drinks her chai.
“I just want to know if you are sure. Have you thought this through, like really through? This is your dream, Ash.”
“And I’ve lived it, Ky. I’m done. I mean, I’ll still play some stuff and record… when I want to. But I just… I want to stop, you know. Stop running around and just… be. At least for a little while.”
The happy couple stare at her like she has grown another head and Ashley makes sure to sigh.
Loudly.
“If it makes you happy, then we’re happy… right, babe?” Aiden pipes up.
“Is this because of, you know-“
“Kyla, c’mon…”
“No, Aiden, it needs to be addressed-“
“What? Because of Spencer, is that what you mean?” Ashley says in between sips of her drink and their bickering.
And Aiden freezes up, just a little, like he always does.
Like he always probably will. It is his apology and his nature.
And Kyla stares, trying to pierce the answers out, like she always does.
Like she always probably will. It is her affection and her nature.
And, if Ashley were in the mood to travel that particular path, she could say… yes, in a way, it is because of Spencer and our last talk and the last time I saw her and the burden finally put down upon the ground - it is because I felt such love, because I felt such pain… it is Spencer, sure, but it is everything.
It is losing my father. It is the fear I always had… of rejection, of trying and failing.
And it is the fact that I succeeded anyway, on my own merit, and I didn’t falter… at least, not often.
It is everything, Kyla.
But Ashley opts for the simple answer, the one that batted about her head as she watched her sister try on dresses and Aiden hug Kyla tightly and the two of them gleefully showing Ashley their new place - pointing out where they will have the guest bedroom, just for her…
“As scary as the thought is, there will be little Dennison-Davies roaming around soon enough and… I’d like to be here for that.”
And Aiden’s eyes actually start to shine, tears threatening.
Kyla’s, too, and Ashley wants to look away - because she is still not great with revealing things and showing her hand and being this open.
It is still hard sometimes. It is still too much sometimes.
But this is a burden going down as well, a peace made and laid to rest and all three of them know it.
All three of them know what ghost is finally being set free.
“That’s good by me.” Kyla whispers, reaching out and taking Ashley’s left hand.
And Aiden nods in agreement, taking Ashley’s right hand.
When the phone rings and breaks the moment, Kyla gets up and Aiden releases his hold and Ashley settles back in her chair.
And she wonders what the old her would do now in order to tarnish this, to wreck it and make it agonizing - but that girl is gone and the world is so much better for it.
Ashley is so much better for it.
“Well, one more guest to mark off the list.” Kyla remarks and Aiden looks up from his plate.
“As in showing up or not?”
“As in showing up.”
“Cool. Who is it?”
“It’s Spencer.”
And the happy couple looks to Ashley, but they just find her smiling softly as she lounges her morning away, legs tucked underneath her and brown eyes aglow with another L.A. dawn.
** ** **
It goes off without any issues - despite Kyla’s nerves and Aiden sweaty hands - and people clap and tears are shed and the church carries the scent of a thousand more people who want God to bless a union.
And Spencer thinks that her next project should be about how the gay community should demand this right, too… even if they never really want to get married, even if they are atheists…
And Kyla is beautiful, all blinding white and hints of brown.
And Aiden is handsome, never one to look bad in much of anything, gaze full of happiness.
And people laugh, people smile, people take too many pictures at certain times and turn this holy place into a red carpet.
There might be two people up there, but it is still a Davies wedding after all.
And that brings Spencer to the prettiest girl there - and it doesn’t hurt to think that, doesn’t wound to admit it, doesn’t kill me to look and admire - by Kyla’s side and holding a simple bouquet of wildflowers, sleek white dress and untamed curls of hair and a grin adorning those lips.
Ashley Davies looks good.
And by good, I mean well. And by well, I mean… calm. And that is a new face, a new thing.
Spencer blinks and raises her own camera, a gift from her father after her first directing gig, and she takes the picture.
And Kyla sends a tiny wave her way (she looks giddy) and Aiden nods (he looks pleased) and Ashley tilts her head to the right - only slightly, but just enough to let me in on a secret, whatever that might be - and Spencer takes one more, grinning as the flash goes off and she steps back.
She steps back and wanders around the reception, snatching a flute of champagne and getting random shots of guests, of a buffet of… is that tofu?... and of flowers everywhere.
She didn’t bring a gift, because there are only so many toasters one can receive.
So, Spencer takes pictures and she will bind them up and - one day, soon - she’ll drop it off with the happy couple and they will hug and they will catch up… skimming over the bad years, focusing on only the nice ones…
And it will be a new face, a new thing.
And it will be good.
** ** **
“Go over there, you know you want to.”
And Kyla’s voice is close and warm and Ashley wraps her sister up in a hug again.
“I’ve not given you two my present yet.”
And Kyla doesn’t press anything, for which Ashley is grateful.
Because everything went as it should - from this beautiful day, with wreaths outside on streetlights and marriage on the inside of this church… from guests who joked that this counted as a double-holiday and celebrity magazines gushing (but not causing trouble, for once) and kids begging their parents to hurry - toys left at home and just begging to be played with.
Because it is Christmas and everyone is nicer than usual.
Because even L.A. has a heart and this is the one day that it shows it, without gumption and without gall.
Because her family now has a foundation in her sister and her best friend, a place where Ashley can forever land and she can almost feel her father watching… and approving…
“What is it then?” Kyla grins and Aiden hugs her from behind and Ashley leans back, walking with purpose to the back and grabbing her guitar and the crowd of people goes silent.
And Ashley feels a pair of blue eyes track her through a lens and she meets it head-on - and the flash goes off and they see one another amongst so many others and Spencer’s lips quirk upward… slowly, surely, so wonderfully… and Ashley just shakes her head in humor before gracing the pulpit area.
And she sings, giving it her all, her voice bouncing off these walls and against these pews and pushing at those large double doors.
And Kyla cries and Aiden watches quietly and everyone feels it - and it is love.
And even Ashley can’t stop it now, the winding of tears down her face and make-up going to hell and it doesn’t matter…
Because this is a special day.
And if I can’t cry now, when can I?
And Ashley feels a pair of blue eyes watch her, a mirror of joy in crystal rivers down Spencer’s cheeks - and when she finishes, people applaud and people pat her back and Kyla is so tightly about her and Aiden is kissing the side of her head and… and…
This is such a damn good day, isn’t it, God?
** ** **
“The DJ is kind of crap.”
“A little too Top 40, yes.”
“I keep expecting Britney Spears to pop up behind the guy to get her pay cut from this.”
“Or Jessica Simpson.”
“At least it isn’t Lindsey Lohan.”
“I kind of liked her album actually.”
“…Me, too. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Do you like the Go-Go’s?”
Spencer would call this segment in her personal film the ‘surreal’ one - because they are talking and, once upon a time, it would have been a cover for something else… whether for flirting or for anger or both…
And there is nothing of the latter two and there is only a hint of the former one.
It’s that new face again. That new and calm and good face.
“Only in the shower. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll carry your secret to the grave.”
“It’s like those childhood pacts, you know. Should we spit on our palms and shake on it?”
“Well, we have swapped spit before…”
And Spencer blushes and she doesn’t question why and she laughs, tipping her glass back and draining it. And Ashley grins and pops some tiny morsel into her mouth and Spencer catches the girl’s head moving - without consent - to the music being played.
“I like her.”
“Yea, so do I.”
“Feels like forever since I’ve heard music in the States.”
“Been going tribal for a while, eh?”
“There are no chargers in a tent by the Ganges, so no iPod to keep me sane.”
“I couldn’t live without mine. Sometimes it is good to hear something other than myself.”
And Ashley smiles self-consciously and Spencer’s fingers splay against her own thigh - just barely halting the act of reaching out and disrupting this… whatever it is… and the lights go down and Kyla and Aiden dance goofily to the thrumming bass and everyone hollers and everyone cat-calls.
“Oh my god…”
“Watch your mouth in here.”
“It’s the reception. God understands. And besides, if he is truly around, he’d blind me to this poor excuse for grinding they are doing.”
“Hey, don’t leave me here to suffer this alone.”
“Get this on film, though. I could use it as black-mail one day.”
“Split any monetary gain fifty-fifty?”
“Deal.”
“We never did shake on things.”
And they look at one another, a mixture of mirth and ease in their respective gazes, and they slide hands against one another - the tips of the fingers first, trailing the lines of the palms and then secured at the thumbs… solid and hot and Ashley is absent-mindedly caressing where her index finger touches Spencer’s wrist and Spencer captures this in her mind - replays it and relishes it and doesn’t fight it.
It is a new face. And I like it.
“Let’s dance.”
“Yea?”
“Yea.”
And so they do, along with many others, along with the happy couple.
They laugh and they don’t get too close - but they don’t stray too far either - and Spencer would call this the ‘girl meets girl’ segment to her personal film.
And it doesn’t matter that they’ve met before, that they’ve wounded one another before, that they’ve already seen the end of their beginning.
None of that matters now.
All that matters is this moment. And I like it.
I like it a lot.
** ** **
Six months later, Ashley is trying to decide if off-white would go better with blue or if she should just find a lighter shade of blue as a compliment to her new loft living room - and failing to make a decision, she just calls Spencer up and suggests a burger on the strip.
Spencer, editing a short film for a friend and getting bored with endless negatives about Albert Bierstadt - no matter how nice the visions of canyons - is up for anything that involves leaving her desk behind.
And when Ashley calls, she jumps on the opportunity.
They do this quite often now.
They exchanged numbers after the wedding, after Aiden and Kyla took off to the sound of tin cans for a honeymoon somewhere secluded and they talked a bit more as Spencer walked to her car - Ashley about ‘taking a break’ and Spencer about ‘working too much’ - and they said good-night.
They said they would keep in touch.
And so they did.
And they do.
“Where are you today?” Kyla’s voice glides over the phone lines and Ashley stretches her legs out, avoiding the constant steps of foot traffic and idly stirs her sweet tea with a spoon.
“Waiting on Spencer.”
“Oh I see…”
And Kyla can’t hide a damn thing, but Ashley does not jump to the bait - she does not get caught up in the knowing tone in her sister’s voice.
Because anyone with half a brain knows that Ashley loves Spencer.
But life isn’t simple and they’ve ‘been there, done that’ and she just likes having the girl back in her life.
Ashley won’t waste time longing for more.
They had more… and it didn’t work out. C'est la vie.
“And there she is, so bye.”
“But what about toni-“
Ashley knows she’ll be with Aiden and Kyla for dinner - it is their ritual now.
And Kyla will tell Ashley to move back in. And Aiden will cook and stay out of it.
And Ashley will break out the Scrabble, tell Kyla to spell something more challenging than ‘cat’ and thus her sister will be easily distracted by the thrill of competition.
“I know that look.”
“Shows that badly, hmm?”
“It’s your… ‘Kyla is driving me crazy’ look. Am I right?”
“Bingo, Miss Carlin. You win a prize.”
“Ooh, what?”
“You can have dinner with them tonight. How’s that sound?”
“Eh… no thanks.”
“Some friend you are.”
“I could, maybe, show up later. For moral support.”
“Better watch it, I might take you up on that.”
And Ashley smiles fondly at Spencer, watching the woman sit down and order and push her sunglasses atop her blonde hair - then, all the little details are taken care of and those blue eyes are on her… every bit of Spencer Carlin’s attention is on Ashley and she has to remind her mouth to work, to function normally.
Because, even after all this time and even after the evolution of what they once were… Ashley still thinks Spencer Carlin is outstandingly gorgeous - outside and within.
“She, uh, wants me to move back in. Again.”
“She likes taking care of you, I think.”
“Yea, she’ll make a great mother. I keep telling her to start popping out those kids, so I can catch my breath.”
“Aww, poor you, loved by so many…”
“Ha ha ha.”
“It suits you.”
“What does?”
“…Umm, I don’t know, being cared for. It… looks good on you.”
“Yea… well…”
And they do this, too.
They say things - things that one of them should catch and rein in before it gets loose, before it sprints free and hits a tender spot… before it hits the heart and makes an impact.
They say things and then they freeze up - because it is true and it is important and it makes them remember something long gone.
And it makes them wonder about what will be.
And Ashley can’t do that to herself. And Spencer can’t do that to herself either.
So, if they can’t laugh it off or change the subject, they claim sudden responsibilities and rush away.
It’s a form of running and Ashley wants to stop it, but she doesn’t know how.
The tightrope of their relationship is a strange one and there is no net below these days.
“…most things look good on me, right?”
And Spencer chuckles and Ashley grins and they both release the tension - saving it for another day, another meal, another time where they can ignore the elephant stampeding their way.
** ** **
Three months go by and Spencer dislikes the way her gut is twisting, the way it is curling inward and churning and the sensation is leaving her short-tempered with everyone.
She can’t focus on the film this week, all the guys in dresses and the leather and the dykes on bikes and the rainbows. Nor can she find the energy to spare for those bible-thumpers, carrying signs of hatred and of contempt, all under the banner of God.
She can’t keep her eyes on anything at all and she knows exactly why and it is driving her crazy.
Crazy like she can’t get a good shot of two girls kissing and she flips off her sound guy and staggers to an alley-way and wants to pull her hair out.
And it makes her feel like a child again, something taken away and she can’t get it back - she is in an adult time-out and she wants to scream - she wants to kick and punch and…
…and I don’t want to feel like this…
But she does feel so much and it has been building with every second they’ve spent with one another and Spencer didn’t think twice when Ashley told her about a date - didn’t think twice about meeting the woman (Lauren with the auburn hair and teasing smile), didn’t think twice when Ashley smiled that shy smile and didn’t think twice when watching them walk away hand-in-hand.
Because it is what people do. They move on and they heal and they seek out someone to love them - the whole them, the real them, the new them.
And Spencer had done the same, though each one was brief - special but brief.
Adriana from Brazil, working on a thesis about long term bird migration and with a wonderful way of touching my skin… or Bailey, with her infectious laugh and drinking until dawn and her sleepy lips following me from Scotland to Madrid and back again…
Spencer didn’t think about Ashley then, not even once, just happy to have the past behind her and to live in the here-and-now… happy to meet new women, to get to know them and to cherish whatever they might share with her. It was liberating, to love and be loved without restriction - without hesitation.
And she didn’t think about it, not when Ashley talked about the date and rolled her eyes… trying to act all nonchalant when things go well… and she didn’t think about it, not when Ashley rearranged a lunch and promised to make it up the next day… which I honestly didn’t believe she would do, but she did… Spencer just didn’t think about it.
It was Kyla and Aiden’s little party that messed things up and Spencer leans against these dirty bricks, tuning out the sounds of ‘I Will Survive’ from the street to her right.
They invited her and she came with wine and everyone was full of themselves that night.
Aiden, with his cock-sure grin and apron and too many beers. Kyla, with her giggling and whispering secrets in Spencer’s ear and stealing from everyone’s plate.
And Ashley breezed in, Lauren on her arm, and she winked at Spencer and Spencer grinned back… and it just… sort of…
Fuck, it just clicked right back into place and I saw Ashley - really saw her - hanging on that girl and kissing that girl’s mouth and dancing around and being… Ashley Davies.
The older version, the wiser version with that damned new face… and it was too beautiful for words.
She was too beautiful for words.
Too beautiful for Lauren and her black slacks and her witty bullshit about La Jolla.
Too beautiful for all of them… even Spencer herself…
Kyla, who catches everything and doesn’t always say it, was the one who found her - staring out the window with my alcohol-breath fogging up a patch of glass - and rubbed her back.
It was comforting and motherly and kind.
And Spencer bit her bottom lip to keep from sobbing.
Because everything was going so well, wasn’t it?
They had ended the vicious cycle and could forgive and forget and they made amends and everyone could then move forward… right?
“Not for nothing, Spencer, but she would come running. Just say the words and she’d come running.”
“I can’t do that, Kyla. I just can’t. Too much time has passed… and you can’t… reshape things like that.”
“If that helps you sleep at night…”
And the hand kept smoothing out the invisible wrinkles and Spencer bit down harder upon her lip, not drawing blood but causing immense pain.
Because I couldn’t do what Kyla suggested. I still can’t. I won’t ruin the progress we’ve made. I won’t try and claim what is not mine to have. Even if I want to. Especially if I want to.
That’s how Ashley found them.
And Ashley looked at the two of them with suspicion and with concern and Spencer ripped that sudden sadness away like a band-aid - eager to do the right thing, the only thing, the mature thing and be happy for her friend and keep moving on… keep moving ahead at all costs, Carlin…
“Hey, hey… wait… Spencer, tell me what is going on?”
“Nothing. Just reminiscing. Right, Kyla?”
“Yea, Ash, just, uh… memory lane and all that…”
And Kyla left Spencer there, the hand drifted down and the girl walked away and Ashley was studying her - bug under the microscope - and Spencer felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take a single lungful of air with those brown eyes so close.
But then Ashley’s hand was on her face, cupping her cheek so warmly and one single tear broke loose and soft fingers brushed it away.
“It’s okay…” Ashley whispered and Spencer found that old tale - the one where we couldn’t speak of our attraction boldly, so we used a boy as our go-between - brilliantly retold with those repeated words and that repeated action.
That old story was torn asunder and built up new, bright and full of potential and Ashley was so near and Spencer surged forward - a cannonball of awakened passion.
And it took a second, just a second, and then Ashley was kissing her back - it was painfully slow and delicious and…
Better than all the others. Better than every woman and every lover and every girl I thought I could date forever. Better than even the first kiss Ashley and I shared, in her room with her dad’s posters all over the walls and her messy bed. Better than all the others… so much better and so much more real and so fucking good…
That’s how Lauren found them.
“Spencer! You okay now? We’ve got two more reels to get and then it is margarita time!”
And she is crying, wiping it all away on her arm and pushing her head into the wall hard and she can hear cheering all along the street.
It is Pride and she should be capturing it… she should be living it and not falling in love with that girl who got away, that girl who ran away and came back and is her friend now…
But it is happening anyway.
And Spencer can’t seem to stop it.
“Ready!” She shouts and walks back around the corner, apologizes to the sound guy and gets the two reels down. And then she drinks margaritas and flirts with a drag king and dances until she can barely walk back home again - the tang of a pair of sweet lips on her tongue, the disconcerted feeling of screwing up no matter which way she goes.
And she tries to figure out the way to let Ashley go again, before she turns everyone’s world upside-down.
My own included.
** ** **
TBC