Everyone has the ability to forget. As children we are taught at a very early age how to block out those things that are unplesant and disturbing. It is drilled into our subconscious to ignore anything that brings us pain. Thanks to my parents, Howie and I grew up to be extremely good at pretending to be something that we were not. How else do you explain two gay children? I was a master pretender. It was just a means of survival.

So for hours, I was able to sit with my friends and drink lukewarm beer and laugh until my sides ached, like nothing had changed. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t stop to ponder how damn decadent Bette’s homemade salsa tasted on organic tortilla chips or how the breeze against my bare shoulders felt so amazing, I wanted to cry. I simply ignored the overload on my senses and pretended all this was a regular Friday night. I pretended time did not stop and it was not long ago they all thought I would die. Forgetting came easy; I was an old pro, after all. As I sat there, on Bette’s porch, basking in the warm glow that was conversation and mild arguments and giggles, I simply forgot I was sick. Or that I ever had been.

 And now I am home and the first thing I did before I washed my face or got out of my dress was to collaspe on the couch. I’m exhausted because I used all the extra limited energy I had stored up, pretending to be normal. Ironic, isn’t it?

Alice joins me in the living room. She’s changed into sweatpants and her favorite ratty UCLA t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail, her face free from any traces of make-up. I feel a little pang at the sight of her this way; this is how I loved her best. It is all Alice.

"I made you some tea," I raise my head from the pillow I’m resting on and realize, not without some guilt, that her mouth is set into a thin, anxious line, which she quickly turns into a tight smile when she catches me looking. Oh shit, I’ve worried her.

I struggle to sit up, willing myself to fight the waves of exhaustion that are overtaking my body. "Thanks," I take the tea cup from her hands and sip gently from the steaming mug.