Stella listened to the sound of the shower around them as memories of her time with Melanie came back. "If soul mates exist, then I thought Melanie was mine. We met right before I graduated UPenn, at a party. We had spent a very drunk night together, and when I woke up I realized that I was going to miss my last final if I didn't get there quickly. I stole her shirt that morning – Taylor Swift." Stella paused to chuckle at the memory. "It was about three sizes too big on me and exceptionally embarrassing. I've never understood what she liked about her music.

"After that final, I-" Stella closed her eyes and pressed her head against Keith's chest. He rubbed small circles on her back. "I tried to kill myself. I had a scalpel left from a dissection lab." She grabbed her wrist, running her thumb over the old scar. "I hadn't planned on suicide when I stole it; it was just one of my impulsive manic ideas. So was my attempt; the psychiatrist later labeled it as a mixed episode."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Melanie wasn't happy that I stole her favorite shirt. She spent the summer tracking me down. Melanie got my phone number from someone I was tutoring and called me. She was especially unhappy when I told her that I'd destroyed her shirt. Even if I hadn't bled all over it, the EMTs would have had to cut it off me." Stella coughed, clearing her throat from the lump that settled.

"So, I bought her a new shirt. And when she came back to Philly we met up. I gave her the shirt, and then she kissed me." She smiled at the memory. "That was easily one of the best kisses I've ever had. From there, it was just us. When she was kicked out of school for drug use, she moved into my tiny apartment in Strawberry Mansion. I worked as an EMT while at Perelman to pay the bills. She used, I think it was, benzos at that point. Melanie stole my medication to pay for her habit. And took it herself." Stella inhaled the strawberry scent her soap left behind. She missed the natural earthy smell Keith always seemed to have.

"After the third time it happened I snapped. I accused her of being a drug-addicted whore and smacked her. She called me a drunk, gave me a black eye, then kissed me." Stella smiled; she had always thought her relationship with Melanie to be better than rum. "And damn if that didn't feel good. She loved and hated my drinking, and thought my mania was the most fascinating thing. She would keep my medication from me just to watch me go manic; I think she enjoyed my psychosis more than I did." With shaking arms, Stella wrapped her arms around Keith just a little tighter.

"Eventually it would culminate in me coming after her for her drug addiction. At some point, she added heroin to her benzo binges. I remember coming after her for leaving used rolls of foil all over the apartment.

"Somewhere in there, we started cheating on each other. It gave us a new thrill, you know? How long until they found out and we hit each other again." Stella shrugged her shoulders at the memory, it still felt as nonchalant now as it had been then. "We lived like that for about three years. Then I lost my job as an EMT. Affording rent and bills with my income had been near impossible. Without it, it was. I didn't want to tell Howie how bad things had gotten – he was already mad at me more often than not those days. And I didn't have anywhere else to go for help. I started tutoring, again, but it wasn't enough. Melanie introduced me to her dealer. So I started selling, both drugs and myself."

Keith took her silence as an opportunity to hold her closer if that was at all possible.

"I did that for a few months. It bothered me though – dealing. I wanted to become a doctor, do no harm and all that. And there I was selling xannies and heroin to people as desperate as I was. Since I couldn't actually drown myself, I started drinking more. Finally, I got the better of me. I overdosed on Depakote*." Her stomach knotted at the onslaught of memories. "Howie found me, in my apartment, with the prescription bottle still in my hand and a broken bottle of rum nearby. That was the second time he found me like that." She paused to wipe away at her watering eyes.

"I didn't see Melanie after that – I ended up back in Friends Hospital on a 201*. When I went back home, Melanie wasn't there. I didn't think much of it. It wasn't uncommon for her to disappear if she was on a bender." Stella wiped away tears. "Then she didn't come back. I tore apart our place looking for a clue as to where she could have gone. Instead, I found a small baggie of heroin that had been cut with fentanyl. The stress of everything had made me manic, full-blown manic episode with psychosis. There was part of me that knew it was dangerous, playing with that powder. The not-so-rational part of me felt invincible and wanted to be proved wrong. 

"I don't remember passing out or anything else that happens with an opiate overdose. I do remember coming to at one point. Howie was towering over me, again." A smile that was closer to a frown spread across Stella's face. "This time there was a can of Narcan up my nose. I passed out again, and came back around in an ambulance with an IV of Narcan that time." She exhaled, long and loud.

"At the hospital, Howie made me choose. I could continue the path I was on, but he wouldn't be in it. He'd cut all ties if I kept up that way. And, somehow my med school found out what happened. They suspended me, pending investigation. It was the first time I really stopped to consider what I was doing could have any severe consequences. I was so upset with the prospect that I could lose my one chance to get my medical degree, that I promised myself if I was cleared of all charges I'd do everything I needed to make sure I got it. 

"I moved in with Howie. He and Adam kept watch over me while I detoxed from the alcohol. They started dating while I sobered up." Stella smiled at remembering how excited Howie had been despite her disappointment of losing a decent fuck buddy.

"And when I finished detoxing, I started taking my medication without it. And dear god, was that shit horrible." Stella paused as shudders raked her body at the memory. "It worked right. It took me forever to get used to seeing the world without alcohol and without my bipolar running my life. I had to relearn how to live. And, I was cleared of all academic integrity charges, or whatever they were. I had to delay graduation by a full semester, but to get where I am today, it was worth it."

At some point during her confession, the shower turned to ice. Keith turned the shower off, then picked her up and carried her shaking body over to the counter. He helped dry her off and wrapped the towel around her. Once they were both dry, Stella wrapped her arms around Keith's neck. Locking eyes with him she asked, "Are you really okay with all of that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He caressed her cheek.

She leaned into the tender touch. "Because I did the same thing to my ex that yours did to you." "I don't think you're that person anymore," he replied, tucking her head under his. "Then who do you think I am?" she asked as she pulled away to look him in the eyes. For once, his charcoal-gray eyes didn't sweep her away.

He smiled, just a tiny one, at her. "I think that you are someone who's trying to live their best life. Someone who's seen the bottom of the barrel, and come out as best you can. And I think you're looking for someone who understands that. And I think you're an absolutely amazing person for coming away from it the way you have."

Stella found herself studying him. She looked for any trace of resistance, anger, anything to hint that he was lying to her. Keith's eyes remained soft, belying no anger but perhaps a little sympathy. He wasn't frowning at her, nor were his brows furrowed. Keith didn't look apathetic, just concerned. She leaned forward and kissed him. The doubts that swirled quieted at his tender touch. They parted, their eyes meeting. In that moment, they both understood something irrevocable passed between them. Stella couldn't say what it was, except something that felt different.

Sometime later she woke up with the late afternoon sun streaming in giving Keith's skin a golden hue. Stella ran her fingers across his face, fingers briefly pausing over his faint worry lines. Propping herself up on her elbow, she continued her study. She couldn't recall a time when a lover had paid this much attention. He had made her feel, whole was the only word she could think of. As her finger traced his lips, she couldn't help but feel like she was not dirty.

Stella shut her eyes against what threatened to be a hot onslaught of tears. It wasn't fair. She knew at some point he would come to his senses and all of this would evaporate. It wasn't fair that he would get to walk away from all of this unscathed while she would be left to pick up the pieces. Despite his innocence, she knew he was dangerous. Stella could feel the urge to run course through her yet the energy to do so was absent.

The way his breath had ghosted across her skin and the sweet nothings he'd whispered in her ear let her fall into his trap. The sounds Keith made when she reciprocated still rung in her head. The feeling of being laid bare before him had yet to dissipate. He had seen some of her deepest scars and she knew that it would be time for him to go. Who wouldn't, when they knew their partner was like her?

She flinched as his hand landed on her cheek. A tear leaked out when Stella opened her eyes; Keith's face swam in front of her as the world came back into focus.

"What're you thinking?" His voice, still thick with sleep, cut through her thoughts.

"That you must be a sorcerer."

Keith blinked as he tried to figure out what she meant. "That makes absolutely no sense."

Stella moved a section of his hair out of his face. "I didn't expect it to."

With a groan, he leaned up and kissed her forehead. "What time is it?"

"4:30," she responded after a quick glance at her clock. "Guess our day's just about up," Stella responded as she leaned into his touch, wondering if he treated his plants as gently as he treated her today.

"What time do you have to leave?"

"About 5:30." Stella leaned back against Keith, the steady beat of his heart filled her ears. "So, what's say I put together dinner for us while you get ready?"

Stella thought about the current status of her pantry. Currently, it was filled largely with coffee, Howie's preferred tea, protein bars, and a few heat and eat meals. There weren't any available leftovers at the moment. "You know, I have forty in my wallet. It might be better to go to the mid-eastern place around the corner. They have an amazing falafel salad."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is there a reason you don't want me in your kitchen?"

"I don't see you being able to cook much with protein bars and microwave meals. Could add in a serving of protein shake, though. Might give dinner a nice strawberry flavor."

"Do you even know how to cook?"

She glanced up at him, the intense look in his eyes caused her breath to hitch. "I know enough to know I should not be allowed near a kitchen."

"And you're taking a kid in?"

"Yeah?" she asked as she tried to figure out where he was going.

"And you don't know how to cook?"

"She's ten. I figure she can survive off of Howie and Adam's cooking, along with microwave meals and takeout."

He opened his mouth, a sound started to escape before he snapped it shut. "Ok, next day off, you are coming over to my house and learning how to cook," he said after several moments of speechlessness.

Stella arched an eyebrow at him, a retort ready that she dropped when she remembered the time. "You know, I really do need you to go pick up dinner if I'm eating something more substantial than a protein bar or two for dinner,"

A low whine escaped as Keith pulled away. He rubbed her head, his face played with a small smile. "I'll be back soon."

Keith dressed quickly and Stella gave him the forty for their dinner.

On her way to her bathroom, Stella couldn't help but notice how much quieter her apartment seemed. As she entered the bathroom, she noticed a phone on the counter, she went to go start playing music to cover up the silence. Before she could pick it up, it started vibrating with an incoming call. "Hey Howie," she answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Stell?" the confused voice filled her bathroom. "There you are!" Relief flooded Howie's voice. "Why is your phone at Winnie's Burgers and Shakes?"

She looked at the phone on the counter, finally taking notice that it wasn't hers. Of course, he would call Keith's phone if he couldn't find her, she should have known that. "Must have left it there when Keith and I picked up lunch. I'll pick it up on my way into work."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Out to pick us up dinner. His phone was in my bathroom." She picked up her hairbrush and detangling spray. Mouth set in a grim line she went to tackle her biggest problem at hand.

Howie sighed, likely tugging at his hair. "Yeah, I'm getting you a smartwatch or something when I get back. What happened to breakfast with mama this morning?"

Stella closed her eyes as the onslaught of emotions hit. The box full of letters, journals, and lord only knew what else churned within her stomach. Her mother's words washed over her again and she remembered her own medical records that contrasted so strongly against what her mother wrote. Her brush clattered to the floor as she gripped the edge of the counter. "I wanted to spend the day with Keith," she responded. Her words came out short and Stella knew that Howie knew how much distress she was in.

"What happened?"

"Nothing I want to talk about right now."

"Stell-" he pressed on.

"No, Howie, just no. I got through today without you, ok? I did it, without help. I called Keith, made plans with him. Made up with him, too. Some. I think. Fuck, I'm not actually sure if he's forgiven me for flaking on him the past couple of weeks." With shaking hands, Stella bent over to pick up her hairbrush. Placing it back on the counter, another idea seized her. "Oh, my god, Howie. What if I just opened up to him and he hates my guts? What the ever-loving fuck did I just do?" She bent over the sink and turned the tap on. Cold water gushed out. She shoved her hands underneath the spray.

"Stell, Keith isn't like that."

"How do you know?" she countered. She filled the face cloth, next to the sink, with cold water. Methodically wringing it out, she wrapped it around her neck. The surge of cold invaded her senses, chasing out the memories from this morning.

"I work with him, Stella. We have tea together every morning and lunch every afternoon. When work turns into a shit show we spend days on end together. He's not the type to string people along."

"Aren't you the one who told me he's been with a ton of girls the past few years?" she countered, remembering one of their conversations from when he tried to get her to do something besides lay in bed all day.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical? How many one night stands have you had over the years? How many fuck buddies?"

"Dammit Howie, I'm not the focus here!" A choked sob escaped and cascaded down towards the counter. "Fuck. Why do I do this to myself?"

The silence stretched between them. She could feel Howie's need to reach through the phone and hug her.

"Ok," she said with a heavy sigh. "Enough about my fucked up life. How are things in Oregon? Leave out no details. Any luck with a new wedding venue?"

Stella fixed her hair and makeup while Howie told her about the sites he and Adam were considering. He even put in a jab about keeping her phone with her; he had sent her pictures. When he finished discussing his Oregonian adventure, Stella found herself able to breathe easier. She had applied her makeup flawlessly and was proud that she only needed two swipes to get her eyeliner perfect. "Alright, I'll talk to you later," she said as she heard her apartment door shut. "I'll tell you which place I like best, but I'm leaning towards that creek place. You sound thrilled about it."

"I am. And Adam's just as excited. I can't wait to get back and talk with you about it all over again. Love you, Stell."

"Love you, jerkface." Laughing, she hung up on Howie as he was in the middle of blowing a raspberry at her.

With a deep breath, she squashed the feelings of abandonment that crept inside of her. "It's just so easy for you, isn't it?" she asked the empty room. "You can just keep moving on like nothing ever happened." One more deep breath and she left the bathroom for her closet. 

She quickly dressed in a lavender blouse with black pants and blazer along with a sensible pair of loafers. The necklace she picked for the night, the only piece of jewelry she was allowed to wear while on shift, was a square cut turquoise surrounded with diamonds. It had been her five-year sobriety gift to herself.

"They're above the sink," she told Keith as she came out of the bedroom. "The bowls," she clarified at his confused look.

"That is an incredibly weird spot for dishes," he commented as he took two bowls out of the aforementioned cabinet.

Stella shrugged her shoulders in response. "It's not like I use them a lot."

Something in her tone must have been off because Keith looked up quickly from their food. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied. The smile she gave him didn't reach her eyes, and she could feel it. "Here's your phone, by the way. Howie called. I picked up." Stella pinched her arm, the pain snapping her out of the daze that wanted to consume her. "I didn't realize it was yours. I left mine at that burger place."

They sat back at the breakfast bar. Stella choked down the falafel as she reminded herself that she needed to eat something to make it through the night at work. The last thing she wanted to do was pass out from hunger; Stella did not relish the thought of more forced time off.

"You sure you're ok?" Keith asked again, squeezing her free hand.

She flinched and pulled it back. "Fuck. Sorry." Stella placed her hand back in his. "Fine. Everything's fine." She stabbed a piece of lettuce to force down her throat. A quick glance at him told her that he didn't buy it.

"What happened?" he asked.

All she could see was his face. How could she tell him that she trusted him and didn't? How did she say that it must be about time for him to run? How could she tell him that he was better off without her and she was a fool for opening up? "Are we still meeting for breakfast?" she finally asked.

Keith tilted his head to the side as he eyed her up. "Why wouldn't we be?"

She shrugged and took another bite of her salad. It went down a little easier. Catching sight of the piece of paper that still sat on her island, Stella remembered that there was still something else she needed to do. "Before we leave, would it be okay if I used your phone? I need to call someone."

"Yeah, sure."

They finished their dinner. Stella took the next round of her medication and put the rest of her Ativan in her pocket for later. She borrowed Keith's phone and dialed her grandfather's number. While it rang, she clung onto Keith's hand. At first, she thought that he was sweaty, then realized that it was her.

"Hello?" a surprisingly young and feminine voice came on over the line.

"Hi, is Richard Montgomery there?" Stella asked. She squeezed Keith's hand.

He dropped it, in favor of wrapping an arm around her. Shaking, she settled in against his side. Stella thought that he needed to go find a garden to play in – he still hadn't regained the smell of earth that clung to him.

"Yes; who's this?"

"Stella. Is he available?"

"Ah, Stella! Rich has been looking forward to your call. I'm his nurse, Lyla. He has a difficult time speaking on the phone these days. Hold on, he's writing something down." The line went silent as Lyla read the note. "He's asking when you can come meet Luna?"

"Sunday," she decided, knowing Howie would be back then. "Around dinner time. I'll be bringing a friend with me."

"Great! Is there a number we can call you on if anything comes up?"

Stella gave her phone number, hoping the conversation would be over soon.

"Also, Rich wants to know if you can do that thing with computers – oh for goodness sakes, Rich, do you mean FaceTime? Yes, he means FaceTime. Can you do that?"

"Yes, at the number I gave you."

"Great! Would you be able to FaceTime with Luna tonight? She won't be back from camp for another half-hour or so."

"No, I'm working overnights this week. I'm not supposed to get done until six, but that translates until closer to eight or nine. Maybe Saturday morning?"

"She'll be available Saturday morning," Lyla agreed after confirming with Rich. "We'll talk to you then."

Stella hung up Keith's phone, giving it back to him. She shut her eyes against memories that were better left buried. She hooked her other arm, the one that she'd been holding the phone with, around Keith's waist. He stroked her hair, being mindful of the braid she had it in.