'Must we always be

Just ships

Passing in the sea…'

///

It didn't go as planned.

At least, not as Ashley planned.

Because from the moment her eyes opened on that day in August and she caught a glimpse of Spencer Carlin, Ashley was in pursuit.

She was the wolf.

And Spencer was the rabbit.

But they had one moment – just the one – and then… before anyone knew it… high school was over and life was moving on.

It didn't go as planned.

At least, not as Ashley planned.

Not at all.

///

"Oh. Sorry."

"Not a problem."

"It's, uh, really crowded here…"

"Friday nights."

"What?"

"It is always like this on Friday nights."

"Oh. Right. Yea."

"You go to King?"

"Yea, you too?"

"Yea."

A push. An inconsiderate shove. A face full of blonde hair and arms around a waist, the bump of noses and the brief sharing of breath.

"Sorry."

"It's… okay, really."

A step back. A touch too long upon hips. A shy glance. And then gone.

"See you around school I guess."

"Yea. See ya."

///

Spencer doesn't believe in coincidences, but she can't let herself just go to that fanciful place either.

That was left behind with God and Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

When you graduate high school and when you go to college and when you finally get away from your parents… you cannot afford thoughts on destiny.

But she does it anyway, doodling during advance trigonometry or eating an apple as she walks the halls.

Because dancing curls of brown hair, framing up Ashley Davies face, is all she is seeing today.

And yesterday.

And tomorrow.

Her gaze is fixed – a moon in orbit around one planet – and it has been for so long, long before coming out and understanding desire and the recognition of beauty.

Even back at King High. Even then, Spencer watched Ashley from afar and tried to muster the courage to approach the girl.

She never did.

And Spencer doesn't believe in coincidences.

But she doesn't believe in anything. Not really.

///

"I know you, right?"

"Uh, maybe…"

"Did you go to King High?"

"Yea. Did you?"

"Yea. Ashley Davies."

"Spencer Carlin."

"Oh, right, I think I remember you."

"I've ran into a couple of King's finest here."

"Yea, uh, my boyfriend… he goes here and he went to King, too."

"Guess that worked out well for you two, eh?"

"Yea."

It is awkward. It is good. And people pass them by, talking and laughing and the stomp-stomp-stomp of feet.

"You liking it here?"

"Pretty much. You?"

"I'd rather sit on the beach all day."

"Me too."

A brief laugh. A meeting of eyes. Clear the throat… do it again… Look at the watch, blue eyes. Look away, brown eyes.

"Shit, gonna be late to Pierson's class."

"Better run then."

"Yea. See you around?"

"Uh, sure, hope so."

"Okay, later…"

"Later."

///

As Spencer types, Ashley plays guitar.

As Ashley closes that beat-up case, Spencer saves files to a disk and turns out the light.

It is a friend of a friend of a friend – a chain reaction… dominos tumbling down… and Spencer is on a blind-date.

She is sitting at this club, waiting on a woman who never shows up, listening to this mixture of folk and blues and rock. She sips her drink (crown royal and ginger ale) and she watches the subtle shifts of drunken faces – of lovers' faces, of friendly faces, of lonely faces.

It is a friend of a friend of a friend – word of mouth… he said and she said kind of thing… and Ashley is stepping up to the stage to sing.

She is propping her instrument on her knee, strumming a few chords and squinting out into a dark mass of movement.

She sings a little and plays a little more and she waits for that moment where some of the crowd quiets down – actually listens, actually hears, actually notices her at all.

As Spencer waits, Ashley works.

And, at that bar – sticky and stained and littered – Spencer orders another drink.

And Ashley leans against the wood, gulping down water.

And they look at one another.

///

"Don't mean to be weird or anything, but you look really familiar…"

"So do you. Umm, did you go to USC?"

"I did. Wow. I'm, uh, Ashley. Ashley Davies."

"Spencer Carlin. Small world, isn't it?"

"Really is… so, uh, how are you?"

"Good. Well, honestly, I've had better nights."

"Wasn't the music I hope…?"

"No. You were great. I just got, uh, stood up."

"Oh. Sorry. That sucks."

"Ah, well, it's not like I even knew who I was meeting."

"Shit, blind date?"

"Yep."

They smile at one another. Ashley asks for more water. Spencer leaves her drink alone.

"You went to King High, too, right?"

"Yea. Most of the time."

"See anybody from there still?"

"Not really. You?"

"Nope. Well, besides you… tonight…"

"Funny how things happen, just running into you like this… and we went to the some college, too."

"I know. Destined to bump into each other, I guess."

"Guess so."

They keep smiling at one another. Ashley invites Spencer backstage and Spencer goes, leaving her glass half-full upon the bar.

"We should hang out some time."

"Okay, sounds good to me."

"Here's my number…"

"Okay, yea, here's mine too."

"Great. Cool."

"So… are you done for the night?"

"A couple more songs then I can get paid."

"Always a good thing."

"You can, uh, stick around back here if you like."

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Umm, alright. This is really okay?"

"Yea, sure."

A grin. A nod. Spencer leans against the wall and listens to Ashley past the curtain, likes the raspy sound of Ashley Davies voice.

Ashley sings a song about hope and thinks about the woman about ten feet behind her, in the shadows of this club. She thinks about the very much remembered blue eyes of Spencer Carlin.

///

'…or can we possibly be

A crazy version

Of eternity…?'

///

END