Ashley checked her rearview mirror, keeping her eyes constantly moving. Driving still terrified her at times, she often found herself having to pull over to the side of the road, counting backwards from one hundred, and trying her damndest to prevent a panic attack.  I cannot spend the rest of my life like this…afraid. She knew what had happened to her, that terrible accident, was a once in a lifetime occurance, but still, it had scarred a part of her, and she worried that part would remain damaged forever. This is so fucking stupid! She berated herself, turning into Spencer’s drive-way. At least dad brought me a new car…though I’d feel safer in a plastic bubble in my bedroom. She took a deep breath, Calm down, remember what they taught you in therapy. Although, if she were going to be completely honest with herself, she’d admit that it wasn’t the doctors, who got her through so many excruciating weeks of recuperative physical therapy, but Spencer. What would I have done without her? Everyday. She came everyday to help me. The tears began welling in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Man tears, her father had always called them, before he left, moved out. Man tears, because they never fall. I’m done with crying for the past. I’ve got a future, and she’s inside that house waiting for me. Snatching her pearlescent white cane from the passenger seat, she swung open the door and stepped out.

***

     Spencer checked her reflection once more, working to make everything perfect. She had opted to wear her hair down for tonight. Ashley always liked when she wore her hair down. Staring into her own eyes, she gave herself a slight nod of approval before descending the stairs. "Mom?"

     "Yes, Spencer?" Paula Carlin rounded the corner of the kitchen, and came to a sudden stop as she stared at her daughter. It was taking some getting used to, and seeing Spencer so dressed up to go out with a girl, well, it still gave her cause for pause.

     "Um, Ashley’s gonna be here to pick me up soon and," her foot began working a groove into the hardwood floor, "I might be, no, I will be really late. It’s our nine month anniversary, and we didn’t get to celebrate the sixth because she was still in therapy everyday so…"