Everything.

I binged on Netflix and cried.
"Noooo!" I sobbed, my arms wrapped limply around my legs, I stare at the TV screen, my eyes wide and watering with betrayal. "Don't choose him! Cam is so much better for you! Joshua is a right pain in the ass." I groaned as the gap closed between Joshua Serman and Kelly Kandle's lips. She had to play it up and wrap her arms around his neck, fingers knotting up in his hair, and it looked like she was trying to tear off his scalp. Jittery laughter escaped my mouth, and I decided I had had enough of that show. Marathons, full seasons, those were my thing. I planned to watch Breaking Bad in the coming weeks.

I wiped off the pathetic tears and rose with my popcorn bowl, retreating to the kitchen for a refill and a soda. I peeked out the kitchen window at the skylights, the brilliant dots of neon that never failed to blow me away. I wheezed a breath of amazement, and tore myself away.

Maybe I've said it before, but I don't care. The lights are my favorite thing about Atlanta, something I look forward to each day.

My phone rang as I sat back down on the lumpy couch, I fidgited, rooting it out of the couch cushion, checking caller ID before picking it up.

"Sup, buttercup."

"How are you?" Came Amanda's reply. It was hesitant and careful, and I already knew what was on her mind. I clear my throat to reply. "I'm good. Just... Hanging around, screaming at my TV."

"You should watch The Walking Dead, it's a good exercise if you're into that kind of stuff." I could imagine her shrugging. "So, what's up with you?" I asked, muting the TV when my show finally started streaming.

"I'm at Ben's now." She replied quietly, her voice was off, she sounded worn, and tired. "There's been... Some trouble, I just needed to talk to you." Her voice was barely a whisper now, it cracked. I sat up straighter, concern in my voice "What happened?... Amanda?"

"Ben's... His Dad, was in a car accident about forty-five minutes ago. He just left me here, family thing, I know, but still... I worry." Her sigh came out in defeat. I was already standing, rummaging through the blankets draped over the couch for my coat. "Amanda, you're at Ben's house right now?"

"...Yes."

"I'm coming to see you. Stay there, I'll see you soon."

"Okay." She whispered, and the line went dead. I turned off the TV and slid my feet into my Chuck Taylors, snatching up my keys, I dashed out the front door, jogging down the steps noisily, and to the parking lot behind the store.

It made my heart swell as I realized how much Amanda cared about me. She hadn't told me outright what had happened on her end, she asked how I was feeling, first. She remembered our conversation from earlier, and put it before herself. I was beginning to see her in a new light.

I drove a little over the speed limit as I rushed down the roads, avoiding traffic the best I could, when it started to rain. Small, silver droplets sliding miserably down the windshield. I bit my lip in agitation, following an ancient Volkswagon around a corner, before passing it and flying down the street.

Ben lives on his own in a little white house in the Suburbs of Atlanta. His family lives a few miles north. I know this because once, Amanda and Ben invited me to his family's barbeque a few weeks ago.

I was nearing the house, block by block. I made another right turn, and recognized Amanda's mother's car on the curb. I parked behind her and climbed out quickly, half running to the door, my blue pajama bottoms flapping in the wind and rain. Drops of moistures slicked off my leather jacket, some of it gathered in the collar, sticking to the back of my neck. I knocked quickly, three anxious raps on the wooden front door. There was movement behind the frosted glass window, and it cracked open.

"Amanda!" I exclaimed with relief, pushing through the door to hug her. "Are you okay?" I pulled back and looked at her face, which on top of every other emotion present, looked hurt.

"I guess, here, come in here and dry off." She gestured behind her and shut the door as I shrugged past her into the modernly decorated hallway. Ben's parents would never let him decorate the entire house in video game and sports posters as he pleased, since they were paying for it.

"Tell me what happened, you sounded worried." I pulled her towards the living room and made her sit down on the sectional couch in the corner. I sat on the coffee table in front of her, studying her expessions carefully. They changed each seconds, anger, fear, pain, annoyance, sadness and anxiety.

"We were just hanging out... Messing around, and his phone rings... So he picks it up, and the color just drains from his face," She fiddles her hands in her lap as she speaks. "He jumps up, grabs his keys and quickly recites what his mom told him. I offered to go, but he said no... Not just no, he... He shouted at me. I recoiled, rocked back on my heels and he ran off. He didn't apologize, call or even update me, and I'm fucking going crazy here." She shakes her head, her long blondish brown hair falling in her eyes, tears building up in them. "I'm trying, here... He's never done this, I just wanted to help him and be there for him, and he just didn't want me there. It makes me question our future." She shrugged in defeat, her shoulders sagging forward.

"Hey, now..." I murmured, grabbing onto her shoulders, in that moment, she seemed so frail. "Don't question it. He loves you more than anything, you know that. Hell, even I know that." I laughed quietly. "He was probably just stressed. He'll come around when everything cools down." I assure her, brushing back her hair.

"You think so?" She asks quietly, looking up at me, her eyes searching mine for a trace of a lie. I nod, "I do."

She sighed, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them, the confusion still evident in her eyes, I couldn't begin to understand what she was going through. I may be 11 years older than her, but it doesn't mean I've seen and felt everything. I never had a boyfriend in high school, bullied by the popular girls until I was deemed 'freak girl' because of my skin issues I had when I was twelve. I hadn't cared a whole lot about relationships after I graduated, maybe that infuriated the boys and they thought I'd changed my game, because I was asked out all the time, shot down every one because I just didn't have time for romantic bullshit.

I pursed my lips sympathetically, and looked at her. She wiped her eyes on the cuffs of her jacket, heaving a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagged forward again.

"Hey girl, it's gonna be okay, tell you what, let's go out, get some coffee, and we'll go any damned place you want." I bargained with a grin, her smile was slow, half a grimace. "It's almost eleven." She reminded me quietly.

"C'monnnn, it'll cheer you up. Because I know, nothing makes you happier than either talking about Steven Yeun or drinking coffee with seven creamer cups in it. So, we're going to do both." I tugged her hands, and she reluctantly got up with a groan, grabbing her phone and slipping on her bulky leather boots.

"Okay." She cracked a smile, and I dragged her out the door to my car. "It's unlocked." I called to her as I walked around the front, getting soaked again.

I turned up the heat and turned on the radio, turning down the volume while I searched for a cafe that was still open to buy coffee from. Needless to say, we got weird looks when we arrived at Romain's Coffee House.

The man at the register took in that I was wearing pajamas and chucks, hair a damp mess, Amanda in her leather boots, dripping floral dress and charcoal grey jacket, her marscara dripping down her cheeks from a combination of tears and rain. I had the feeling we wouldn't have even been served if we were dressed like this in anywhere but Atlanta.

"Yayyyy..." Amanda hummed when the waiter handed her her coffee, she swiped her finger through the whipped cream on top and popped it in her mouth, making a point to pop her lips. "Yeah, this is what I needed..." We walked towards a secluded booth in the back, considering it was eleven, the shop was still pretty busy. Men in suits and ties holding briefcases were getting coffee to go, couples sat in booths, holding hands or looking down at their phones.

I looked around at the other people in the store when Amanda began to talk, launching into a new conversation about Steven Yeun, like I promised we would. I couldn't help it, or stop the words from flooding out.

"Is that... Mark?" I looked above the small crowd at the back of a man in a leather jacket, no hoodie this time, long brown hair fell almost to his shoulders. What was even more bizarre... Was that there was two girls in line behind him who started squealing, poking him, laughing with him like they knew him personally, but the man seemed very flustered by it. If it was Mark... It would seem that boy was everywhere whenever I was. This was the first time I'd ever seen him anywhere outside the Laundromat, though.

"Mark?" Amanda perked up, curiousity in her voice and wide eyes, she scanned the crowd even though she didn't know what he looked like. "You mean your secret admirer?" I blushed no matter how hard I tried to ignore her words.

"Which one is he?!" She leaned across the table to try and be descreet, which she failed.

I tried to decribe him without pointing and making a fool of myself if it wasn't him. "I'm not sure if it is... But, he'd be the one in the leather jacket up there."

Her eyes lit up when I assumed she saw him. "Ooh... Sorry, I can't tell if he's good looking or not." She dropped down into the booth again. I watched Mark with the subtle-ness of a stalker, though I could not gurantee it looked the same on the outside. He grabbed his coffee and left a tip on the counter, turning, I looked at his dark sunglasses, and I thought he looked at me, I was certain our eyes locked for a moment, but he turned and darted out of the coffee shop.

Disappointment... It flooded me and darkened my mood. I put on smile and turned back to Amanda, shrugging. "I don't think it was him." But I knew... Knew with all my heart, that it was, and he avoided me. Not even a wave, a smile, or any gesture to acknowledge my presence. We were just strangers that shared a gaze for a moment.

I silently sighed, and started questioning Amanda about things going on in her collage courses. Standard answers: Her teacher was a jerk, classmates never payed attention, she thought she was doing alright, and her mother said she'd pay for half of her next semester, if Amanda got a part time job. I nodded, wishing that just once, something would have caught my attention enough for me to want to go to collage, nothing ever did.

"Oh, it's Ben..." She picked up her phone off the table when it started to ring, his ringtone, some boggsly cheerful Miley Cyrus love song, started to bellow from the speakers of her phone. "What should I do?"

"Pick it up," I encouraged, "Try and sort it all out, find out what's going on."

She nodded and hit answer, hesitantly holding it to her ear, "Hello?"

She pursed her lips, something flashing behind her eyes when he said something else. "Ben, I can still come down to the hos-.... Why not? Why can't I be there with you? Is there something wrong with me?" She demanded angrily.

Oh, crap...

"I'm trying to be there for you!" She shouted back at him, "But that's really fucking hard when you won't even let me in."

She frowned as he spoke. "I know you're under a lot of stress right now, but hell, you don't know what I'm feeling right now... What? Are you trying to say my concern for you is fake?... What the hell does that mean?... Ohh, okay, fine, play that game you sona'va bitch."

She hit end call and dropped her phone on the table with a loud clatter, tears formed in her eyes, but she wouldn't look at me. "He... He said I don't actually love him if I'm yelling at him while he feels like this. He doesn't understand what I'm going through with this, I'm trying to be there but... Shit, he says he just wants a break until he can sort this out." She sighed, but it was broken, like a haunted wind through a wind chime.

"Hey girl,-"

"Rebecca..." She said slowly, quietly, "I just want to go home."

I didn't pressure her decision. I drove her back to Ben's, and she finally began to cry at the sight of his house. She sat in my car for several more minutes, her head against my shoulder, while I tried to think up comforting things to say to her.

"Okay..." She sniffed, a shaky breath followed, "I'm okay to drive, now... I'll probably call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be around." I smiled at her, catching her shoulder before she climbed out. "Hey, Amanda..."

"Yeah?"

"Get some rest, think it over, there's still hope." I offered her a real smile, which she returned half heartedly.

"Thanks." She replied, crossing the street to her car. I remained parked until her car was gone, then I looked up at Ben's house.

Piece of shit... I think, and a plan forms in my mind. Three days, I'll give him three days to do something for Amanda, if he continues his asshole routine, it's time for best-friend revenge.

No... I correct myself. Let it work out, let them work it out, you'll sour the whole thing if you get involved. While that seems like the logical route, it's not the one I want to take. I decide I'll keep an eye on the situation, but I'm not going to act.



I didn't sleep, I paced, I thought, and I stressed. About so many people, so many things, minor things that shouldn't have bothered me, yet it did... Mark looked right at me, and said nothing, did nothing, like he hadn't even recognized me.

"Errrrggggg...." I groaned, placing my hands over my eyes, rubbing them and looking out the curtains, the sun was beginning to rise. Another shower, I combed through my tangles hair, changed into an old band tee of my Dad's and a pair of black skinny jeans. I threw down a bowl of cereal, not really thinking about much, but the slender possibility that Mark would walk through those front doors of the Laundromat and I could confront him about everything.

But that was the real problem... Was I even brave enough to do that? Speak up to a mysterious stranger? I crossed my arms across my chest and nibbled on my lower lip, I wasn't so sure.

When it was late enough for me to go to work, I did. I got a glass of water, threw that down, too, fed Carl and Thomas, then I jogged down the metal steps, pushing open the door at the bottom of the stairwell, walking into the Laundromat. I stopped dead in my tracks when Janet stood behind the register, her once blonde hair dyed cotton candy pink, she blew bubble gum bubbles through ruby red lips, and her eyeliner clad eyes eventually lifted to haunt my presence.

"Mr. Unise says you're cleaning washers today." She says, in a way you order someone you don't like to do something, and you're forcing yourself to be nice. I groaned internally, watching her tap buttons on the register with manicured fingers. She had definitely taken on a different look in a matter of days.

I guess I still felt guilty enough, that I didn't ask for a second opinion. I went to the supply closet, and got everything I needed, and headed towards the row of vacant washers on the left side of the building. I was scrubbing, and up to my elbows in some floral smelling shit that Mr. Unise insists is made for washer cleaning, but I'm not so sure.

Something I never mentioned, was how lonely I get living in Atlanta. I mean, yes, I have Amanda there to hang out with, Derek if I feel like traveling an hour to his house, and a few other minor friends, but no one who absolutely is always there, like mom and dad.

I sighed as I scrubbed, frowning too. This wasn't the first time I'd been tempted to pack up and leave Atlanta, try and find something better, but the truth was... I was scared to look, scared I might end up working somewhere worse than a crummy Laundromat. That was the very thought that kept me here, scrubbing out metal washer drums, ringing up purchases for druggy folk and inhaling the artifical scent of lavender everyday.

I never knew what I wanted to do, that was the problem. Every kid, when they're like five, they're parents ask them what they want to be... Responses? Princess, astronaut, cowboy... When we're ten, it's baker, firefighter, cop... When we're fifteen, it's model, a sports car racer or someone who invents a new trend. When we're eighteen, it's scientist, teacher, construction worker, someone who serves the community. Some of us, though, have dreams to design video games, be directors, authors, artists... I never had any of these thoughts.

My Dad would ask, while we swung back and fourth on the swing in our backyard on summer days, eating ice cream, what I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. I wasn't sure. I loved music, reading, taking photos and painting, loved all that stuff, but it wasn't real. My parents tried to persuade me to go to this collage and that one, for stuff I couldn't even pronounce the name of, it was confusing to me. I just... Never took off with anything, and now I'm living the dream, woo...

I had come to Atlanta for a photography job that had fallen through, had to sell my camera for a place to stay, food and fuel until I could figure out what I was doing. I never did...

"You'll make us so proud." Aunt Jay promised me, giving my shoulders a squeeze of reassurance before pulling me into a hug. The past five minutes, I hadn't had the chance to stop, and know who was embracing me, like I was a toy ball, rolling back and fourth between everyone, trying to grasp their words of encouragement. I stood there, before the double doors of West High. My last day here... I'd never return, I knew that. I took in deep breaths when my chest started to tighten, it felt stupid to cry.

My parents both hugged me, my dad kissed my forehead, and whispered to me something no one else had. "No matter what you do after today, always know I'll be proud of you." He squeezed my hand, and joined everyone as they walked inside to get to their seats, I stood outside, on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Places!" One of the highschool teachers called, rounding all of us in matching dark green robes into a group. "I'll be taking in everyone with the last name A." Mr. Tanner called, and a good portion of our group went.

Cassandra Ameria, Tate Arlington, Taylor Arr, Beliska Adele... Among so many others. A small group of teachers led in the kids in alphabetic groups, and soon, we all stood inside the school autorium, looking up at the high ceilings, counting the burned out light bulbs to keep from crying. The pressure of the past eighteen years pressing on me, I had known these people most of my life, and I would probably never see them again.

I got goodbyes from my closest classmates, which gave me the intuition that they knew it, too. I hugged a few people I had gotten to know during my years there, and then... A half hour later, we were all scattered to the wind, adults... A lot of the girls were crying, getting pictures with each other, holding up their caps and deplomas.

My hands were shaking as I accepted mine, fearing I couldn't live up to the expectations outside of school. The school principle, Mr. Hallow, smiled warmly at me, congratulated me, and shook my hand. His assistant handed me my diploma, and I stumbled off the stage awkwardly.

I saw people crying around me, their makeup smeared. I was now too shocked to cry, it hadn't really hit me yet, I just knew this, I would not have to set foot here again, I was smart enough to survive roughly seventeen years of classes, bullies and embarrassment. I felt something other than the shame and incapability to live up to the expectations. I felt proud for myself.

The day just moved by in a blur. I was home then, that evening, eating left over graduation cake, sitting in my bedroom. Things weren't so terrible then, I actually had it pretty good in that moment. Who would have known... Who could have known? That nine short years later, my Dad would be diagnosed with lung cancer, and die a year later?

Two years ago, now... I guess. He was my guiding light, always trying to help me find things that would make a good career until I was ready. I never was, and now I'm on my own.