On the coffee table was a freshly cracked open bottle of chardonnay with a wine glass sitting next to it. Without even looking up from the covers of the albums she reached over and grassed the wine glass; not a drop was spilled or wasted. She was wasn’t regularly a klutz but she had her moments; except when it came to wine. She had perfected not dropping her glass or spilling any of the precious alcohol over the years. Even when she was drunk, dancing and singing around her apartment with her best friend until one in the morning; that glass was in perfect balance.

Pulling the wine glass to her lips she took a drink, still looking down at the album covers. She was scared, it was such an odd feeling but she was scared to go back to her past. She was scared to hurt again, to feel something. She was also scared that she wouldn’t feel anything. She had shed a lot of tears over the years, had had a lot of laughs over the years as well. She wasn’t the same persons she was back then and she wasn’t sure if she would embrace the past memories or reject them like her mind seemed to reject this “transition” she went in and out of for a week at a time each month.

Another drink was taken before her hand lowered and she rested the bottom of the glass on her knee. She reached with her right hand for the first photo album closest to her. She moved it across the floor rather than lifting it under it was in front of her. She opened it and the first page was a note. A note she had written herself when she first met Arthur. The first line read This one is trouble. She knew where she was coming from, he wasn’t actually bad for her. She just knew back then, before everything that would come with them and at them that he would make her feel great things.

She read the letter, smiling to herself; she could be such a girl sometimes. It didn’t bother her that she had feelings, that she cared or showed them. She didn’t care if she was teased about them, she truly didn’t. What she did care about was whom she shared those feelings and emotions with. She didn’t let just anyone in, not then and since everything it was harder for her now. The friends she did have she would do anything for. She didn’t need to say it either, she would kill for them if they were ever in danger. Those strangers who came into her life? They were either acquaintances or friends she kept at a distance. She could be nice but there was a safe distance between them. They wouldn’t know her inner workings; know about her son, about the great love of her life. They wouldn’t see her cry.

The page turned after she was done reading the note. On the left side there were two pictures and on the right page there were another two pictures. On the left upper side was a picture of her as a baby. Her back is to the camera and her mother is facing but looking down at her. Her arms are wrapped around Danica and smiling as Danica’s hands are on her mother’s face, playing with her mouth. Her mother is wearing bright blue shorts with a pink t-shirt with blue and white designs. Danica is in a one piece that criss crosses over her back, it is pale yellow, pink and blue in a flannel patter. In her hair is a small clip. It looks to be summer out. Right below that is another picture of Danica and her mother. This time she is a new born. She is in a yellow onesie with legs. She has on knitted booties with ribbon bows. She is also wearing a matching knitted open jacket with a hood. Her hands are not covered; she is sleeping. Her mother is sitting, pink pants with a white shirt with random pink squiggly lines. She has electric blue eye shadow, her hair in a pixie cut and she is wearing pink square hoop earrings. She is smiling; nose crinkled and eyes squinting like she is laughing.

On the right side is a picture of Danica, pregnant. She is sitting on a chair with a gray concrete wall behind her and a hint of a window to the right of the picture, barely in the frame. Her hair is long and in a rare form, it has been straightened. She is wearing a black shirt, right arm more in focus as her body is slightly turned in facing the other person in the picture. Her right hand is on the arm of the patio chair, her other holding onto the hand that is resting on her right wrist. Arthur is slightly bent over, standing to the left and slightly behind Danica. He has his right arm wrapped around her back. Resting close to her shoulder. He is leaned in with his cheek and side of chin resting close to the top of her head and forehead. He is also smiling, wearing a white and black shirt.

The picture just below that is a picture of Arthur. He is sitting at a dinning room table. There is a window behind him. There is a light, sheer white curtain covering it with blinds pulled down; still the light pools in. The walls are pale beige; the dinning table is dark wood. He is looking down, blonde hair disheveled and falling into his face, however unable to hide the fact that he is smiling. He is shirtless and doesn’t seem to care the camera has been put on him. In his arms looking up at him is a baby. The baby is wrapped in a white blanket, with a tiny white hat; eyes open looking up at Arthur’s face. He has a slight grin on his face.