*September 17, 2010*

In the mornings, he was so sweet on my tongue and at night, salty and sweaty.

Impenetrable, his eyes were cold stones right before he threw me up against the wall. Darkness.

Fire in the water. There was so much light and fluidity. He was open for me. No one would snuff him out.

Golden flecks in my kryptonite watching my every move. I was dazed by his attention. His pleas rendered me speechless, all in a British accent.

"You can't change."

I was close. His fingers were lightning. We were close but not close enough.

After weeks of sweet iterations filtering in and out of my daily activities, this morning, I woke up coated in sweat, my hands dipped into my panties. I ached from the incessant thumping and was on the brink of coming.

"You're so wet." I heard him moan this time. "Make it last."

I was shocked of his command the first time, afraid of its implications. I had to go to the emergency room the night he left because of my panic attack. What if that was the tip of the iceberg? What if I were really going insane?

I hadn't stayed awake or lucid long enough to either answer that question or ponder others. A full packet of Benadryl left me pleasantly sluggish. They didn't help me sleep, though. I had woken up three times last night. I was at the precipice when I opened my eyes. His eyes were so close but disappeared when I inhaled my surroundings and exhaled my dreams.

Now, I could taste his lips as his command penetrated each eager pore. With every breath, I smelled his lust. His tongue wet my skin. He was inside of me. His love flooded my brain, and I found myself unable to follow this command. I came with a quiet shudder and a sharp curse, shame rolling through me.

Falling to the floor, I stared at the rumpled sheets and comforter on my floor. Neither belonged here. The t-shirt brushing against my pebble-like nipples wasn't mine. I yanked it off, throwing it across the room.

God, he would hate me for lying on these sheets. Phoebe's sheets.

But every single one of my drawers were filled with clothes from her. I didn't know where I'd be if she hadn't shown up at the penthouse.

Is where I am right now better than if she hadn't?

I showered, knowing the answer and ignoring the way my clit felt like the Energizer bunny beat its mallet against it.

"You can't change."

I finished washing my hair, about to get on my knees and pray to an unknown god to kill the bunny.

"You can't change."

I brushed my teeth, confident in the potency of the remaining Benadryl.

"You can't change."

Yes, this is better than if she never came. I have my dreams and memories and his voice.

Grabbing a mug decorated in daisies off my nightstand, I headed to the kitchen for a refill. I propped my elbows on the counter next to the sink, letting the water run for a bit before filling my cup with tap water. Then, I grabbed the aluminum packet of gel caps off the top of my refrigerator.

"No! No! No, goddammit! No!"

I hurled the packet across the room, but it coasted slower than a full pack would have because it was empty. I threw the mug to the floor, reveling in the sight and sound of its smashing against the linoleum, wanting to scream. Hearing Nicholas's sweet words silenced me.

"You can't change."

Watching the water roll into the grout, I dropped to my knees. I didn't understand it. How could hydrogen and oxygen bond to form the water spreading across my kitchen floor? How could gravity still exist? How did the laws of physics still operate when I felt like every cell in my body was a split-second away from going poof?

"I'll keep my promise," I uttered to the floor. My eyes burned and the cup's yellow and white ceramic shards doubled and blurred before my cheeks became wet with tears. "I will be like I was. For you, Nicholas. I'll be the girl who never lied to you."

The only way I could be that girl was in my dreams.

I stopped calling him yesterday. I still checked Facebook everyday just to find out if Dr. Phillips had passed on, but no one said a thing. I didn't have a right to know, though. I wanted so badly to fly out to L.A. to see him. I didn't know where I'd get the money. Phoebe was a non-option. I was close to begging my mom for it but cut my ambition short.

I couldn't see him, yet. I wasn't ready for him. He deserved a pure woman. And right now, I had to be punished.

So today, I swept up the glass, then put on my clothes: the white shorts and yellow t-shirt I wore the last day my home was home.

The blood no longer stained the collar because Phoebe had washed it off. I pulled it tight into a knot at my waist because it didn't skim down my side like it did last month. It hung loose, almost as loose as Nicholas's t-shirts. When I pulled on my shorts, I noticed it hung low on my hips. Digging through my drawer full of Phoebe's clothes, I begrudgingly grabbed one of her belts and left.

The cool early morning air felt nice on my bare legs.

The smile on the wrinkled brown face of the man behind the counter was reassuring as he handed me my deliverance.

Shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight, I opened the front door of my apartment building, catching my overstuffed mailbox in my periphery.

When I unlocked the box, dozens of envelopes spilled out. I found stuff from July. I had forgotten to forward my mail to the penthouse. I bent over to pick up what was mostly junk and old bills, but there was an envelope from my mom. It was probably money.

She always gave me money for my birthday, just like my dad always gave me a gift card for the Home Depot. I glossed over her envelope, engaged by the two pieces of sticky paper from UPS.

Both notes stated there was an attempted delivery on Friday. UPS would be back this morning between 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. I snatched the notices and shuffled over to the stairs.

Twenty one. What a crock. I was legally an adult. The law expected me to be able to buy a home, rent a car, buy a beer, and start thinking about which insurance policies would cover each treasured item in my list of assets. This was adulthood according to the law, and I wanted no part of it. But when I got upstairs to check my Facebook newsfeed, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't avoid my passage into the dark ages.

I didn't have too many birthday congratulations, but it was enough to make me wanna log off.

*Marshall Inc. *

Come to Cipriani's to celebrate Katherine 's Miller's new status. She's legal y'all!

10 hours ago · Unlike · Comment

You and 105 people like this.

*Steven Ignatius*

Lucky beeyotch! LOL j/k Happy Birthday, Katherine!

10 hours ago · Unlike · 90 people

*Lauren O'Connor*

Happy Birthday, Katherine!

10 hours ago · Unlike · 100 people

*Robert Weston*

Phoebe throws the BEST birthday parties! You'll never forget this!

10 hours ago · Unlike · 4 people

*Katherine Eve Miller*

Oh boy.

5 minutes ago · Like

While Phoebe's party tonight didn't sound as inviting as Robert made it sound, Billy's wall post made my heart sink.

*Billy Davis*

Happy Birthday Kat

5 minutes ago · Unlike · Comment

You like this.

*Katherine Eve Miller*

Thanks Billy. Wish you could've come celebrated with me. :(

4 minutes ago · 1 person

*Billy Davis*

Me 2. But the fans can't get enough of me. I gotta deliver!

4 minutes ago · Like

*Katherine Eve Miller*

OK

3 minutes ago · Like

*Billy Davis*

u should've gotten ur gift already. Did you?

3 minutes ago · Like

*Katherine Eve Miller*

Yeah.

3 minutes ago · Like

*Billy Davis*

Oh. I thought you'd like it more. I know how much you love that show.

2 minutes ago · Like

*Katherine Eve Miller*

Yeah. I love it. I'd love any gift you gave me, Billy.

2 minutes ago · Like

*Billy Davis*

Like u loved the Beatles Anthology I bought for ur 18th bday? :p I think I heard "I wanna hold your hand" in your car once.

1 minute ago · Like

*Katherine Eve Miller*

Ok, maybe not that one.

1 minute ago · Like

*Billy Davis*

hey u sure your not mad Im not comin? I know u hate birthdays but you always love gettin stuff. Y U so down?

1 minutes ago · Like

Katherine Eve Miller

I'm fine. And I understand. November'll be here before we know it.

just now · Like

Now I knew where one of the packages came from.

Billy told me he'd be unable to visit for my birthday a couple weeks ago, but it still hurt to see in black and white and blue with a shot of Billy singing on stage in his avatar. His fans had him and he had his fans: a bunch of people who didn't know the first thing about him. All they knew were his songs. None of them knew Billy like I did. None of them needed him. They didn't really appreciate what he gave them every night. He put his heart and soul into those songs, and they would forget him as soon as he left the stage.

I slammed the lid of my laptop shut.

None of this matters. None of those people matter.

I pulled my right leg from under me, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight that filtered into my living room window. Another beautiful Indian summer morning. Not a cloud in the sky for the fifth day in a row. So perfect.

"You can't change."

This was my sole gift from Nicholas, his voice. He left me no congratulations on Facebook for joining him into the dark ages.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was Phoebe, I went back into the kitchen for a replacement mug. My birthday party was tonight. She was way too early. When I heard the knock again, I thought about the two UPS notices, pushed the mug down the counter until it hit the wall, and headed to the door.

"Katherine Miller?" A young short dark-skinned woman with long, black plastic-like hair stood on the threshold.

"Yeah."I took the two boxes from her and provided the electronic signature.One was long and flat against my tummy. The other was half its size but just as flat. I signed the boxes and watched her leave. I was about to slam the door shut when I heard a southern accent from down the hall.

"Katherine!" Phoebe beamed as she strolled down the hallway and right into my apartment. I recognized her green fedora from last semester perched at the crown of her head, her hair purposely stringy beneath. She was a mishmash of styles. Baggy blue jeans weighed her petite frame down, and a t-shirt with a black mustache across her middle added a cartoonish flair.

"I have a lot of plans that you simply cannot avoid today. First, we're gonna cut that shaggy hair. You will be fierce!" She snapped her fingers in the air, then put it on her hip. "We're getting you a whole new wardrobe for the Fall. It's already on its way here. Then you and I," she said, grabbing the boxes from my arms and placing them on the coffee table. "You and I will have the best twenty-first birthday party ever."

"Phoebe-"

"No buts this time. I will drag you out if I have to. You're gonna have fun today. This is the only day you're gonna turn twenty one. Nowhere!" She rummaged through her Brooklyn Industries backpack for a brown paper bag.

"It's the best bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich in all of New York. Eat it."

I took it from her but kept it at my side.

"Katherine!"

"I'll eat it later, okay?"

She huffed, digging into her shoulder bag for another item. Lifting the black flap, she pulled out a hot pink box. It looked like the size of something I hadn't seen in a month but with batteries that were sold separately.

"This is unnecessary," I said, blushing.

"Work it out, girl. You look like you need it." She placed it in my hand and patted it with a smirk. "It will satisfy you the way the sandwich won't."

I pointed at the large box on my coffee table.

"Two gifts, a haircut and clothes, and a party at Cipriani? It's too much, Phoebe."

"It's not." She stretched her right arm across her chest, then played with her bronze bracelets. "Besides, I didn't mail you anything."

I took a step to the boxes. The short one was from Austin, Texas, Billy's neat print in blue on the front of the box. The long one had a printed From/To label on it. The contents under the "From" portion at the top made me drop the brown bag and pink box.

880 Fifth Ave.
New York, NY 10021

"Christ!"