That was not the last time I saw Tyler.

The morning of his graduation, I was in my room tucking the last of my wayward things into my trunk. It yawned open in front of me, packed nearly to the brim, while I toyed with the objects in my hand. They looked like nothing more than things meant for the trash: a green bottle cap from the night of the hockey tournament, which Tyler had taught me to send spinning with a flick of fingers, like a tiny green UFO; a blue-grey pebble from River Tracks I had taken and forgotten about until I found it in my jacket pocket; and a perfect miniature airplane Tyler had tossed on my desk one day in philosophy class. In my other hand was the picture of me and Danny, creased slightly from falling asleep with it clutched in my hand.

I knew better than anyone how small triggers could be. How easily a sound, a smell, a pebble, a bottle cap, could launch you into a memory, take you back in time and reconstruct people and places and events in the air around you. Make you remember and relive, for better or for worse. And I knew how those memories bore you like a tide through time to the place you stood in the present.

So instead of throwing them out, I found an envelope, placed them inside, and tucked it safely between a pair of towels in the trunk. The top banged shut and I snapped the locks into place. I straightened and glanced about the room.

It was nearly empty; the ugly cinder block walls bare once more, beds stripped down to the vinyl mattress, desks cleared except for the stray paper clip while a few hangers clinked in the empty closets as a breeze blew through the open window. It looked as it did when I had first moved in, but I knew it wasn't the same room. It was not as empty as it seemed.

Could it really have been an entire year?

Memories tugged at me while I looked around, and I paused to watch as they played out before me, overlapping one another like a video stuck on fast-forward.

There was me on the ground, cowering from a flashback set off by the shattering of a wine glass in the trash. Me and Vanessa laughing on my bed as we spent an entire Friday night looking up cat videos. Amber on her bed, her face alight with fury as she yelled at me; followed by me, her, and Tyler sitting on the floor while I told them about Danny. Chris made his brief appearance, nearly a blur in the time-lapse. The memory of him in the doorway was replaced by Tyler, drunk and rambling, which overlapped with a different night where Amber had actually helped me pick out something to wear. There were too many nights of me alone, killing wine bottle after wine bottle, but it didn't bother me as much as it once had. That phase of my life was over.

"Dash?" Amber interrupted my reverie. I turned to find her standing just inside the doorway, the last of her bags slung over her shoulder, room key in hand. "I'm headed out," she said.

I nodded and offered her a small smile. "I guess that's it," I said, gesturing around the room. Amber followed my gaze and I wondered what memories she saw there. I couldn't even begin to guess. When her eyes returned to me it was to say, "Before I go, I just wanted to tell you that I reported that guy—the one from last semester."

I had to work to keep my jaw from dropping open so taken aback was I from her words. It was one of the last things I expected to hear from her. Expect perhaps the words, "I love you."

"You—you did? When?"

"About a month ago. I didn't press charges, but I made sure they took his name down. I figured it might help—if he ever did that to anyone else."

I nodded in understanding, wondering what exactly had changed her mind. But if there was one thing I knew about Amber, it was that I didn't think I'd ever truly know her.

"Thank you for telling me," I said.

She gave me a small smile of her own and for one second I saw an echo of her younger self shining through—a pretty blonde girl with a sweet smile and maybe a bit more faith in people.

She turned to leave but paused with one hand on the door. "Hey, Dash," she said over her shoulder. I raised my eyes from where I had bent over my trunk again. "Don't be a total stranger."

I rolled my eyes with a grin and then, she was gone.

With her absence came the strangest, and arguably most absurd, thought. What would next year be like without her? We would not be roommates again; she was going to live with one of her friends across campus and I had re-enrolled in the random roommate assignment, thinking I had nothing to lose. At this point no one I could be paired with now would ever quite match Amber. But, somehow, the idea of that was almost sad. Despite everything, living with Amber had become familiar. I might even miss her.

I shook my head and grinned to myself again. I would never have thought, at the beginning of the year, that those words would ever cross my mind.

While I stacked the last two crates of my belongings on top of the trunk, my train of thoughts about next year stopped at another, more unwelcome, question.

What would next year be like without Tyler? I gripped the edges of the crate hard and bowed my head, trying to reign in the feelings that bubbled to the surface at the thought of his name.

From across the grounds came the tolling of the clock tower and I looked up. It was 11:00am. Graduation had been going on for over an hour, and I wondered if they had begun the roll call for diplomas yet.

I had changed my mind every hour for the last twenty-four about whether I should go. Tyler wouldn't be expecting me, so he wouldn't be looking, or disappointed if I didn't show up. Or, maybe, he would be disappointed if I did show up. I shrugged off that idea. Still, the nagging need to see him wouldn't dissipate.

I did not want the mental picture of him, muddy and dripping wet and bowed under the weight of "whys" and phantom bruises to be the last one I had of him. But I was equally afraid of my emotions if I did go to see him.

We hadn't talked since the day of Needle Rock, over a month ago now, after I asked him to leave. He had taken it well, better than I deserved, but I had seen the flash of pain across his face like a lightning strike before he was able to mask it. After all, I had done it again. I had asked him to show me his soul, and then I had said goodbye.

But it was better this way. For both of us. I had to believe that. Tyler would go on to medical school unburdened by my nightmares and faults and limitations. And, somehow, someway, I would make peace with Danny's death on my own.

It was better this way. At least for now.

But no matter how many times I repeated that sentiment, I could not get rid of that picture, of that look on his face. It had situated itself, sharp and uncomfortable, at the forefront of my mind where it was nearly impossible to ignore.

Could it really hurt anymore to see him one last time? I wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't even get near him. I had said my goodbyes already. But I could see him, watch him graduate, tuck the picture away with all of the other things in my trunk, and know it was there if I ever needed to remember.

With the final toll of the bell came my decision and I was up and out the door before I had even registered it. I thundered down the stairs, wove through boxes and parents in the lobby, and took off across the grounds. Tyler's last name was near the end of the alphabet, so even if they had started calling names, I might not have missed it.

Making use of my accrued knowledge of shortcuts across campus, I made it to the quad in a record ten minutes. The grassy area where Tyler had first tripped over me was now covered in rows and rows of white lawn chairs all facing the enormous stage that had been erected the previous week. The awning that covered it was striped blue and white for the college's colors and at the podium was a robed professor reading off names.

They were at the letter "T." I put a hand on the stitch in my side and tried to breathe normally. My heart pounded, but I didn't think it was from the run. I placed myself at the edge of the crowd in the standing-room-only section so that I had an unobstructed view of the stage. It took me a few seconds to locate Tyler, who was lined up along the ramp, waiting to walk across at the sound of his name and take his diploma from the President of the school. Though he wore the blue cap and long robe of all the other graduates, I knew it was him. At this distance, it was hard to see the expression on his face, but my heart skipped a beat when he turned left slightly to scan the crowd and seemed to linger longer in my direction.

There was no way he could know I was here. It was just the wishful thinking of my limited imagination and very bruised heart. He refocused his attention at the center of the stage when the person in front of him moved forward and then walked confidently after her when his name followed. I was strangely full of pride as I watched him shake the President's hand and take the folder that held his ticket to a new life. This was the picture I wanted to keep, even if I was not a part of it.

And yet, when Tyler paused at the top of the stairs to look out once more at the crowd, I, against all of my better judgment, raised my hand. The chance of him seeing me, among all of those people, was nearly impossible. But I liked to think that he did.

I liked to think that he saw me lift my hand and smile, the sunlight catching the new colors threaded through my hair, and know why I came.

It was over in the space of a heartbeat, and Tyler walked down the stairs to be lost among the blue sea of other graduates.

I turned away to walk back across campus, the smile still lingering on my face, and my head comfortably full with all my possibilities.

                                                    ~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~