The Perfect Storm

The sun had passed below the horizon on her left, leaving the sky a range of hues from yellow to orange, but Ashley stared ahead at the low, darkened clouds on the northern horizon as she drove, and shook her head. Of course it would be raining in Portland. Sometimes, when she thought about it, it felt like there had been a continuous rain throughout her childhood. That wasn't true, of course, but it was hard to argue with so many damp memories.

The volume of her radio suddenly dipped as she drove, and her awareness of her car's tendency to do that in advance of an incoming phone call preceded said phone call by less than a second.

"Hello," she said, as she kept her eyes on the horizon.

"Hey girl," came her friend Tegan's downpitched, downbeat voice. "How you doin?"

"Making good time. I'm almost up to Eugene."

"Good... good. Thanks for coming."

"Of course I'm coming," she said, brow furrowed. "Ilya's mom was awesome. I'm just sorry I couldn't make it back sooner."

"I know she probably won't say it, with everything else going on, but she's missed you. She's super psyched to see you again. It's been a while since you've been back."

"Home sweet home, right?"

"Yeah," Tegan said, laughing sadly.

"How've you been?"

"Not bad. Tired. I've been at Ilya's all week. Shaye stayed in Seattle for work, but she'll be there tomorrow."

To Ashley's ear, Tegan sounded absolutely exhausted. "Everything okay with you two?"

"Me and Shaye?"

"Yeah."

"We're okay," Tegan said, sounding even sadder. "Just... you know. This came at a bad time."

"Yeah," Ashley said, laughing bitterly. "I know all about that."

"Hey, speaking of bad timing... I'm not sure how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it? ...Hannah called me yesterday."

Ashley's back got very straight, and she shifted uncomfortably in her driver's seat. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She was asking about the service. I told her I wasn't sure, and that I thought it was on Sunday."

"Good," Ashley said, with a ugly smile. "She can show up the next day and be all alone like she deserves."

"She asked about you too."

She licked her lips, and kept both hands carefully on the wheel. "What did you tell her?"

"I said that I didn't think you were coming, and that I didn't have your number anymore."

"Good. Thank you." It felt hollow to say it.

"She's in town, though, so, you know..."

"Yeah." Ashley swallowed and nodded, and added, "I'll keep an eye out. Thanks."

"No problem."

"It's tomorrow though, right? The service?"

"Saturday at 10:30."

"Okay," Ashley said. "I'll try to swing by when I get into town, if traffic doesn't slow me down."

"If not, no worries. Drive safe, and if I don't see you until tomorrow, then I'll see you tomorrow!"

Ashley clicked off the call, and her playlist slowly ramped back up in volume to fill the silence. It was good that it wasn't too quiet. It had been ten years since she'd seen Hannah, and she'd wait ten more if she could help it. She caught up to the storm and a light drizzle fell on her windshield as she drove. Her world always became a little smaller when it rained, but Ashley felt it even more so in that moment.

***

The following evening, Ashley was hovering in the frozen section of the tiny grocery store on the edge of the neighborhood. She felt a little silly, still all made up from the service earlier. She'd been trying to look for ice cream —Ilya wanted cookie dough, Gia wanted neapolitan, and Tegan and Shaye wanted to split butter pecan— but mostly what she saw was herself reflected in the glass.

The pencil skirt/blouse/blazer combo was pretty much her go-to look, accented by a pair of tall black heels that covered her foot nearly to the ankle and exposed her toes. It was a look that would have fit in much better in her office, or pretty much anywhere back in Sacramento, but in the town where she'd grown up she felt very out of place. Everyone else she could see was in boots and denim. She wondered if any of them recognized her, though her red-orange hair was something of a tell.

She filled her basket with the various pints, substituting a chocolate peanut butter for Tegan when she couldn't find butter pecan and adding a pint of mint chocolate chip for herself, and strode up to the line. She had to admit, though, that walking through that place four inches taller than she had been the last time, because of her heels, did make her feel powerful. Imperious. Better.

There was only one cashier at eleven thirty in the evening, and the line was predictable. Ashley adjusted her mask and folded her arms, content to wait...

...until she saw the three cans of Dinty Moore beef stew in the basket of the woman in front of her. And the jar of crunchy peanut butter. And the half-dozen microwaveable pot pies. Suddenly, her stomach was in her throat. The woman had mousy brown hair, stray locks curling in every direction without quite becoming curly, and was about the right height. She couldn't see any more about the woman from behind, but it was her. It had to be.

Hannah wore a light gray hoodie, unzipped, over a pink t-shirt. Blue jeans and beat-up, low top Converse sneakers. When she turned to put her items on the conveyor belt, Ashley saw that she was wearing a rainbow-colored mask. Of course she's wearing pride gear, she thought to herself. That's such a Hannah thing to do.

It all happened so fast. Only seconds passed between the moment when Ashley recognized Hannah and the moment when Hannah recognized Ashley. That part was quick. What lasted forever was the look that passed between them afterwards. She'd almost forgotten how green Hannah's eyes could be.

"No," Ashley said, breaking the silence.

"Ashley," Hannah said, "I—"

"No," Ashley repeated, more forcefully.

"Sixteen forty-five," the cashier said, raising her voice slightly when she saw that Hannah wasn't paying attention.

"Please," Hannah said. "I need to talk to you."

"You had plenty of opportunities to talk to me before you cheated on me."

Hannah looked crushed, as she stared down at the floor, and it was absolutely delicious. Ashley felt eight feet tall. Eighty feet tall. Everyone around them looked away as well. Still, as bad as she looked, Hannah didn't back down.

"I can't change what I did," Hannah said, "but if I could, I would. In a heartbeat."

"You really want to do this?" the redhead asked. "Right now? In front of all these people?"

"Ma'am," the cashier said, softly but insistently.

"Pay the woman," Ashley said, cocking her head. "You're making a scene."

"Leave them out of it!" Even as she said that, though, Hannah turned and swiped her card through the ancient reader. It beeped, and she punched in her PIN. Ashley tried not to look, but she recognized the path the brunette's fingers took around the number pad. She knew that code; it was her own birthday, month and day, but that changed nothing. Hannah took her bag in a huff, stepped over by the door, and folded her arms. Ashley faced the cashier directly, and gave her an apologetic smile, but in the corner of her eye she saw that Hannah was waiting for her.

"Sorry about her," Ashley said, as she scooped up her bag of ice cream a minute later, and the cashier gave her a sympathetic look before moving on to the next customer. Ashley then pulled out her umbrella as she turned and headed for the parking lot, and Hannah swept along behind her.

"Please," Hannah said, folding her arms more tightly. "I need you to listen!"

The wind had kicked up, causing rain to come down at a slight angle, but she crossed the parking lot as quickly as she could. Ashley spun when Hannah grabbed her arm, and stood next to her car with the umbrella angled back over her shoulder. Hannah didn't have an umbrella, and was getting soaked.

"There hasn't been anyone else since you," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the storm.

"You were with enough other people while we were together, don't you think?"

"I didn't—" Hannah bit down on her tongue, shook her head, and set her shoulders. "What I meant was, it was always you. You're the only one for me."

"Apparently not the only one," Ashley shot back angrily.

"I know you're still mad at me, and you have every right to—"

"Don't tell me what I'm allowed to be mad at," Ashley roared.

There was a bright flash behind them, and two seconds later the thunder arrived. Close.

Even the downpour couldn't hide the tears in Hannah's eyes. "I'm not gonna get another chance at this," she said, sadly. Exasperatedly. "Tomorrow you're gonna be gone. Back to... wherever. Whoever. I don't know." Her cadence picked up, and she waved her hand frantically in front of her chest. "Oh God, I can't breathe."

Hannah wiped her face, and seeing her there, looking so pathetic, was everything Ashley had ever hoped for. It felt like justice.

"This has been fun," Ashley said, coldly, "but I think we're done here."

Hannah's eyes went wide, and then the world around her became bathed in white: a blinding kind of brightness bordering on holy. Hannah shielded her face with her arm, and there was a deafening crash behind her like a freight train coming off the rails. Ashley turned just in time to see something huge and black coming down on her, and then the brightness faded to nothing.

***

The door opened, and Ashley's heart leapt into her throat. She quickly brushed her hands on her apron and walked back over to the dinner table. The candles were still going strong. Hannah slowed to a stop in the hall, with her bag strapped across her chest like always, and stared.

"Surprise," Ashley said, her shoulders tucking inward.

"What is this?" Hannah asked. She sounded hoarse, and her eyes were wide.

"I made ziti," she announced, excitedly. Then she turned around and ran back to the counter. "Also! Also, some... some impromptu garlic bread out of the hot dog rolls we had. They weren't going to last much longer anyway."

"Ash," Hannah said.

"A-a-a salad too! I had to run out earlier, because I didn't know you were out of balsamic, but I got it. And some Smirnoff's too. They just had the red ones, not the triple whatever that you love, but I know you like the regular ones too."

Ashley licked her lips, and couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. They kept clenching and unclenching. She tried sliding them down into the pockets of the apron but it sat a little too low, so that only her fingers were really inside, and she tried to adjust without looking like she was doing any such thing.

"Yeah," she laughed. "I figured, staying with your dad you probably had beef stew for dinner three nights in a row, so I really wanted this to be special."

"Ash," Hannah repeated. She took a step toward the table and smiled sadly. No. Miserably.

"I know I haven't..." Ashley's throat felt like it was collapsing as she spoke, and she had to pause to cough. "I'm sorry, is what I was going to say. I know I've been pretty preoccupied, and-and-and I know, okay? I know. I have a whole month left before the Step 1 exam. I shouldn't have... I could've..."

Hannah had one arm wrapped around her ribs, while the other hand covered her mouth as she cried.

"I should've been more helpful. More supportive. I should have been there. He's your dad, and I'm..." Her voice failed her again, but she powered through. It was important. It needed to be said. "I'm sorry I... I'm sorry I pushed you to cut him out of your life. That was wrong, and, you know, maybe a little born of jealousy. He's your dad."

Hannah's reddened eyes never left the table.

"It's not his fault. Those pills are... I mean, I've been reading up on opioids, and I can't believe they get prescribed at all. It's like none of these people ever heard of 'too good to be true.'" Ashley moved around the table and it seemed like Hannah wasn't backing away from her —a good sign— so she moved in closer to hug her girlfriend. "I would want you to be there for me like that, and I sure as hell would want to be there for you like that."

Hannah remained completely stiff, which was very much not like her, and it was her continued rigidity that was the first sign. Ashley tried squeezing her, and turning her into the hug, but Hannah resisted. She whispered something, but it was so soft that the sound of their clothes brushing against each other overshadowed it. Ashley knew she'd heard something, though, so she drew back slightly and tilted her head, to try and intercept Hannah's unmoved, thousand yard gaze.

"I cheated on you," she said, haggardly.

At first, Ashley was sure she'd misheard. Her bodily reaction was to laugh. She stepped back and laughed again, this time more desperately, hoping it was some kind of joke. Praying it was a joke. Needing it to be a joke.

Hannah's dire expression said it wasn't. "I wasn't at my dad's."

"Yes, you were," Ashley said, thickly. She reached back, and braced herself against one of the chairs.

"He wasn't the one that needed me."

"I don't understand." Her voice came out like a ghost. A hollow shell of a sound.

"I met someone. At one of his NA meetings." Her eyes remained distant. Unseeing. "They... she called me on Friday. She needed me."

"As, like, a sponsor? In crisis? Did you..."

Hannah looked up and slowly shook her head. Then she swallowed, lifted her chin, and said, "It wasn't the first time."

Ashley bumped into the table, unaware she'd been backing up, and shook her head. "No," she said. She kept looking for a sign, or a tick. Hannah was a terrible liar. She couldn't keep a gag going this long without breaking. Ashley just needed to wait for the smile to appear.

"I was at her—"

"Stop," Ashley said. "Just stop."

Hannah turned slowly, reached back into her bag, and pulled out a polaroid. The world skewed, like a Dutch angle, as the little brown-haired girl handed her the picture. Ashley knew it well. It was a picture of a single flower in a thin glass vase with the sun setting in the background, but in the foreground, framing the entire left side, were the hips and ribs of a woman arching away. There was even just a tiny hint of the side of her breast, though it was blurry.

It was not her body. Though pale, like herself, this woman had a scar on her hip, and she would have remembered posing for a shot like that. Ashley stared at it, and blinked hard.

"That's not right," she said, stepping back. "This isn't how it happens."

Hannah merely looked at her.

"You didn't... I found this." She stood up straight, holding the picture like a knife. "You didn't give me this. I found this. Why did you give me this?"

Hannah did not respond.

"I found this! After you..." She turned and looked at the door. "After you left." When she continued, her voice was a whisper. "I found it in your other bag."

"Does that change anything?" Hannah asked. Her voice sounded different. Calm. Even, perhaps, a bit angry. "This is the end, no matter what. No going back from here, right?"

Ashley spun, taking in the third apartment they'd lived together in. They'd lived there for two years, the two hardest years of their relationship, and just the sight of it was enough to make her stomach turn.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad."

"Yes it was," Ashley said, turning angrily. Then her jaw dropped. "Wait."

Hannah rolled her eyes, and made a cyclical motion with her hand to imply she wanted Ashley to hurry up. "Yes, yes."

"Who are you?"

"Do you not remember?"

"Of course I remember you," Ashley snarled, "but you're not... What is this?"

"You don't remember the tree?"

For a moment, all Ashley could see was a black outline, barely differentiated from the thunderous night sky behind it, as it crashed down upon her. She shivered, and her knees nearly buckled.

"You got hit on the head."

"What happened? What is this?"

"This is when we broke up. Obviously."

Ashley squinted. "Hannah wouldn't say obviously. She loved to say ob-vee."

"Yeah, well obviously I'm not Hannah," Hannah said. "We're in your head, not in some magical alternate reality. Come on. Catch up."

The redhead sat back against the table and blinked. And focused. "I'm dreaming... but if this is a dream, then why aren't you going away?"

"Because you can't get rid of me that easily," Hannah said, with a smirk. "Out there you can lie to the world. Out there, you can block numbers and put email addresses on ignore. You can manipulate all your friends until the echo chamber is pure again, but in here? Whole different thing."

Then Hannah glared at her, and instead of glaring right back like she had done in the store, Ashley withered. And turned. And ran.

"Day zero," Hannah called.

Ashley turned and sprinted down the hall, staring in fear over her shoulder.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love orange too, you know."

"Yeah," Ashley said. "I know. You've—"

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

"You weren't talking about the gatorade," Ashley said softly, blushing.

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

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

"Oh," he said, smiling widely. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Ashley bought them," Hannah replied.

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

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

"Are you sure? You don't need a hand putting the—"

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

"Alright," he said, throwing his hands up. "Alright. I know when I'm not wanted."

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