I didn’t go to class the next day. Or the day after for that matter. Monica tried her best to get me out of the house, but I refused. I was much happier staying indoors, sitting on the sofa next to the telephone, praying to God that it would ring.

I had given up trying to call him. There was no way in hell I would be able to get through. Monica had driven past his house a couple times and relayed that it looked pretty shut up.

Not that I blamed him. He thought I was a fucking whore, and God knows I felt like one. I only wished that he would come and talk to me, let me give him my story to him. He didn’t have to believe it, he could feel free to call me anything he wanted and walk out the door. At least that would have afforded me some degree of closure.

His abandonment - this was torture in its most devastating form. The void inside me grew with every passing hour and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would just consume me altogether.

Not even a God damned word from him. My mind was working overtime—my nights sleepless and blurred with tears. What was he up to? Was he imprisoned with grief as was I? Did he even care? Had he moved on to someone else. . . someone who could give him what he needed and would never betray him as I had?

I considered it betrayal, even though Monica assured me otherwise. She had since calmed down and had drawn the conclusion that someone had drugged me that night. She told me three times a day that she was just waiting for a phone call from the doctors with the result from the urinalysis, she was certain it was roofies – Rohypnol, the date rape drug - and who knows what else. She said it was the only explanation for my not having a single memory of what happened.

Even if that did turn out to be the case, as I believed it would be, what did it matter? What the hell did anything matter if Tobey was not around? I couldn’t tell him, I couldn’t call him or go by his home—what difference would it make?

Everywhere I turned there were memories of him. Pictures, framed and displayed on my bookshelf, the smell of his soap everytime I stepped in the shower, the blue book he’d given me still sat where I’d left it on the coffee table - it seemed like so very long ago since that morning last week. How strange that only a week ago I knew he was the only man I would ever love. I still felt that way, only this time knowing that my feelings were not reciprocated . . . God, the bitterness of that reality was unbearable.

It was a Wednesday when I finally decided to venture out into the world again, get on the freeway and head for school. Monica was driving me as she didn’t quite trust me by myself at the moment.

Monica didn’t even have class that day, but refused to leave me alone. The results had come in from the doctor’s office early that morning that I had, indeed, been the victim of a drugging. It was little wonder she didn’t trust me alone—I didn’t trust me alone either. Despite my numbed state of mind, I had to admit, knowing she was there for me made me feel a twinge better. Considering.

“I was thinking,” she said, as we pulled off the freeway and onto the USC campus.

“Yes?”

“Well. . .Wendy doesn’t know about any of this. I really think it would be a good idea to just to give her a call and let her know. . .”

“She’s probably had her number changed like he has.”

“He changed his number?” Monica blinked her eyes in disbelief.

I nodded solemnly. “I. . . I c-called again last night and the operator said the number was no longer in service.”

I heard her mutter ‘shit’ under her breath. It was a definite setback she hadn’t been counting on. But she continued nevertheless. “Well, I’m still going to call her today.”

“She’ll hang up on you.”

“I’ll call back. Nat, we have to let her know what happened.”

“What’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” Monica screeched to a halt, having parked terribly in the parking stall, and turned to me. “What do you mean, what’s the point? The point is that you and Tobey are fucking meant for each other! I am not going to sit by and watch everything disintegrate! I’m just not going to do it!” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I have to admit: I was jealous. The last few weeks I was so very jealous, Natty. You and Tobey embodied everything that I’d spent my whole life looking for. It wasn’t fair, for two people to be as sublimely happy as you two. I was really green with envy. But now that it’s. . .” she took a breath. “We have to do something before it’s too late.”

“It already is. Tobey has made it very clear that he wants nothing more to do with me. He’s left — that’s all there is to it.” My words were embittered, “That morning he stormed out of the apartment was the last time I’ll ever see him.”

Monica sighed and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “The course of true love never did run smooth, isn’t that what they say? It’s the God-honest truth. This is just a test, sweetie. We have to work this out.”

“I can’t,” I said, my tears falling again. “I’m so tired. . .there isn’t a point to it. . . it’s hopeless.”

She shook her head. “Not true. There’s always hope.” She squeezed my hand. “You taught me that, remember?”

* * *

MONICA

She pulled into the compact parking lot, not caring that she had blocked the shiny black Mercedes from being able to back out. It was a brutal day in class, studying for finals, and the trauma at home had really started to take its toll—she’d had a migraine for the better part of the week. Little wonder too: she wasn’t able to stop thinking about everything that had happened. It just kept creeping back to the surface. Seeing her best friend in the world crumble, her entire world dissolve around her was too much to bear. She threw open the car door, grimacing. Over the days she’d grown more and more upset that Tobey hadn’t at least given her an opportunity to explain herself. Since he claimed to be so in love with Natalia, how could it be that he just cut all ties like that?

The headache was returning. She’d decided that she owed herself a nice, big, fat double cappuccino with extra whipped cream.

Her favorite café, The Bourgeois Pig on Franklin Avenue, was thankfully not its usual packed self: the tables outside usually inhabited by black clad “intellectuals” were empty. Strange, on such a beautiful day.

She threw open the doors to the café and nearly plowed right in to the person who was, at that very moment on their way out. To her complete horror, a twenty ounce cup of iced coffee had spilled and was, at the moment, dripping down the front of her favorite pink crocheted sweater.

She was just about to unleash every foul word she knew in her extensive vocabulary when she looked up and discovered. . .

“Oh my god, Leo?!?”

Leo was standing in front of her, perfectly mortified at what he’d done. The two stood in silence for a good moment. It had only been one week, but considering the fact that she was used to seeing him quite often, it felt as though it had been years.

“Monica! Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” He tossed the cup in the nearby trash bin and focused on her.

“It’s. . . it’s okay,” she said, her nerves calming down a bit. She shed the sweater and grimaced at it.

“No it’s not,” he said, shaking his head, “God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well. . . good. You should.” She winked at him and he broke out into a smile as well.

He shrugged and gestured towards the door. “Um. . . the least I can do is buy you whatever it is you came here for.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” she said, entering the air-conditioned café, Leo close beside her.

“It’s strange that I ran into you today,” he said as they stood in line, Monica earnestly surveying her choices. She could sense the awkwardness in his voice. “I was actually going to stop by.”

“Stop by?” Her interest was piqued and she turned to face him.

“Y-yes,” he said hesitantly. “I need to see Natalia. I. . . I need to talk to her.”

* * *

~ FLASHBACK ~

Leo

Leo had returned that evening, bearing the Chinese he knew his friend wasn’t fond of, only to find the house empty. He stood out in front and dialed his cell. No answer on the house phone, and Tobey’s cell was still out of commission. Leo wondered absently how in the world his pal had gone a whole day without use of his own cell phone. What the hell was that about?

He called around, to a couple of their friends, but no one had heard from Tobey all day. Leo was a bit worried, but hoped he’d just gone to possibly sort out the issue with his phone. He sat down on the front steps and opened the cardboard container of seafood lo mein, took some chopsticks from the bag and proceeded to nosh the nutrients down. Burping loudly – “excuse me!” he exclaimed to no one in particular – he sat the empty container next to him. Still no sign of Tobey.

“Shit,” Leo mumbled. “The dog fuckin’ ditched me.”

He didn’t yet realize that it would be awhile before he’d see his friend again . . .

****************************************************

~ PRESENT ~

Monica

They’d ordered their iced Caps and found a seat in a secluded corner of the café. Leo was unusually serious, at least as far as Monica could tell. He was normally one of the hammiest goof balls she’d ever seen and never failed to crack people up. Today was different. He seemed lost in thought.

“So what’s the sudden interest in Natalia?” She asked casually, trying not to sound suspicious.

“Well it’s not sudden, really,” Leo told her. “She’s been on my mind a lot, actually.”

“Yeah, me too,” Monica murmured.

“How is she?” Leo asked.

Monica shrugged. “Awful. I’m really worried, Leo.” She glanced up at him. “How’s Tobey?” she asked cautiously.

Leo sighed. “I don’t know. He’s not really talking to me these days.”

“What??”

Leo filled her in on how Tobey had placed blame on Leo, how bitter he’d been that day in the house, and how Leo had been unable to get in touch with Tobey since that day. The only contact he really had with Tobey was through their mutual friends. He knew Sara had been spending time with him, and Kevin had been going to the gym with him on nearly a daily basis. It was through these contacts that Leo kept tabs on the person he’d always considered to be like family – he and Tobey really were more like brothers than like friends. His concern was deep, but he knew Tobey – he knew he needed time, and space and structure at critical junctures like these. And Leo would give him that. Leo would give him whatever it took.

“I’m not really his favorite person right now,” Leo sighed.

“Wow,” Monica was saying, “Leo, I’m sorry.”

“He’ll come around,” Leo said. “I’m worried about Nat, too. Something’s just not right about all of this . . .”

“What do you mean?”

“Monica, I was there that night, at the club,” Leo told her. “It was weird.”

“Leo, I – “ Monica stammered. Natalia’s test results had come in earlier that week, but Monica knew that Nat hadn’t told a soul besides herself. She was ashamed about what had happened, and felt incredibly guilty about it all. The whole encounter with Derek had left her feeling dirty and violated, she’d confided to Monica, but more than that even, was the shame and embarrassment she felt for apparently acting so wild and out of character. No amount of consolation would soothe her on the matter.

“Do you think she’d talk to me?” Leo was asking. “I just need to know some stuff.”

Monica gazed into his serious gray-blue eyes. She couldn’t have agreed more.

* * *

Natalia

With the semester finally over, my daily routine went back to a snail’s pace. I no longer had a reason to get up early or to even wash my hair for that matter. I had fumbled my way through finals and pulled a couple lousy grades in the end, but I didn’t care. There wasn’t too much I did care about anymore. I spent most my days on the couch, wrapped in a quilt in front of the TV, losing myself in the images and colors, but not really taking it all in. Monica constantly pestered me, wanting me to go Christmas shopping with her, or help with decorating the apartment. In truth, I didn’t care if Christmas ever came again or not.

The Emergency Room doctors had given me a referral to a counselor, and Monica urged me to go. I had picked up the card a couple times and studied the woman’s name, but I had never gone so far to pick up the phone. I was so filled with shame and humiliation at what had happened to me – at what I had done – that I was sure she wouldn’t see me.

One afternoon I was lying half-dozing on the couch, barely focusing on the film that was ending on the channel before me. The next film began; I started to drift off again when something jolted me awake. I sat up suddenly and focused on my surroundings. I heard it again, and was pulled over to the TV set in the corner of the room, dragging my quilt with me.

It was Tobey. Or rather, the film The Cider House Rules. It was his voice I’d heard. I crouched on the floor in front of the set and watched his image there for several minutes. I touched the screen as if doing so I could actually reach out and touch his face. He looked so clean cut and innocent here – almost more like a little boy than the man he really was. It was tearing my heart to pieces, but I couldn’t pull myself away from it. I turned the volume up on the set and leaned my head against the screen, taking as much of him in as I could.

I sat through the whole two-hour film with my head right by the screen, drinking him in, as the never-ending tears choked me once again.

Later that afternoon, I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the referral card of that counselor and made an appointment. Slowly, my days began to pick up a bit. At least to the point where I would remember to wash my hair.

* * *

I’d been out for part of the day – had actually ventured outside to take in the holiday sights of sunny Los Angeles during the Christmas season, I did after all, need to pick up gifts for Monica and for my parents at least. As I came into the apartment, the phone was ringing. It seemed like it hardly ever did that these days. Assuming it was Dr. Carroll’s office calling to confirm or change my next appointment with the counselor, I grabbed it, my arms still full.

“Hello!”

“Hello. Hi. Is this Nat or Monica?” said a familiar male voice.

I nearly dropped the phone. “I –it’s Natalia,” I mumbled.

“Oh hey, Natty, I thought that was you, it’s Leo,” he said. “How ya doin’?”

I let the packages I was carrying slide to the floor as my jaw nearly did the same thing.

“OK,” I mumbled. “How about you?”

“I’m good,” he nearly shouted into the phone. I could hear the sound of the freeway in the background on his cell.

“Listen, Nat, “ he was saying, “I was wondering if we could meet up, or . . . I’d like to talk to you.”

My heart sank. Probably to tell me off, I thought.

“Would you want to meet somewhere for dinner?” he asked. “Or I could come there – whatever. I just really, really would like to see you.”

“You would?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been worried about you.” His voice went all sincere with that, and my lip quivered.

“You have?”

“Yes I have,” he stated. “So what do you think – do you want to meet, or . . .”

The prospect of going out in public again soon wasn’t that appealing, really – especially with someone who garnered media attention wherever he went it seemed. I felt cautious about it all, I couldn’t believe Leo would really put any of his time into wanting to meet me if it wasn’t serious.

“Would you like to come by?” I offered hesitantly. “Just come by the apartment?”

“You’re not going to let me take you out to dinner?” he asked.

I sighed. “I’m just not really up to it right now,” I said.

We made plans for him to come over the next day, and ended our conversation. I looked around the apartment and decided it was time to make it look more livable again, and got busy tidying things up.

* * *

Tobey

This was at least his third trip back to the Cingular store where he’d picked up a replacement for his busted cell phone. They just couldn’t seem to get it right, and even worse – they were one of the sponsors of Spider-Man.

“No, see I told you,” he was explaining to the salesperson at the counter. “The other phone was busted, OK? I dunno – let’s just say it spontaneously combusted. I needed another phone, man – not a whole new account. I want the same number and shit. I just needed a new phone.”

The salesperson went to get a manager.

“Tobes, what’s with you and the curse of the cell phone, dude?” Sara chuckled.

Tobey rolled his eyes. “This is bullshit. All my numbers were in that other phone. I can’t call anyone, and they can’t call me.”

Sara patted his shoulder. “Dude, it’s called withdrawal, OK? Admitting it is the first step.”

Tobey snorted a bit of a laugh, despite the fact that he’d gotten himself into this mess all on his own. That’s what he liked about hanging out with Sara Gilbert. They been friends since they were about fifteen, a long time now. Her laid back demeanor and dry wit always made him feel at ease. She never put the pressure on anyone to talk or behave a certain way. With her, you could just simply be.

They left the phone store once Tobey was again reassured the new phone was connected to his old number. Sara took out her own phone and dialed. Tobey’s phone rang.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “It works!” He switched the cell phone on and said hello into it, even though Sara was standing right next to him. “WHAT?” he said next.

“It’s still ringing,” Sara said about her phone.

“No,” Tobey was nearly shouting into his phone, “no I’m sorry, your dry cleaning isn’t ready to be picked up!” He clicked the phone shut with a snap.

“SHIT!” he swore, nearly slamming this new phone into the wall as well.

Sara had her phone to her ear. “It’s still ringing, Tobias,” she said.

Tobey threw her a penetrating glare and stalked back into the phone shop.

* * *

Natalia

“Hi, Nat,” Leo said when I opened the door for him. He even leaned over and gave me a small hug. “Wow, you look really pale.”

“Thanks, “ I said dryly.

“Sorry.”

I invited him in to have a seat. “Want something to drink?”

“Do you have a ginger ale or a seven up?” he asked.

“We have both,” I told him, dreading the possibility that he may take a full 10 minutes deciding which he wanted.

“Surprise me,” he said casually.

Amazing.

“So what’s new?” I asked awkwardly as I brought our drinks in and sat with him on the couch.

“Look Nat, you know why I’m here . . .”

“Leo. Please. If you came here to tell me off, or yell at me please just go, I’m so not up for that . . .”

“Natalia, no, listen,” he was saying. “I just want to talk to you. I’ve been really worried. Ever since that night.”

I glanced at him warily.

“Something’s just been eating at me, I dunno,” he said, sighing, then looked up at me. “Nat, what happened?”

My breath caught in my throat. Nobody knew about this but Monica and me. I hadn’t even talked to her about it much, my feelings were such a jumbled mess. That’s what my appointments with Dr. Carroll were for. I was completely ashamed about what had happened to me, and ultimately – what I had done.

“I don’t know, Leo,” I said.

“Nat, be straight with me, OK? Do you have a problem with alcohol?”

“What?” I almost laughed. “Leo – what is this? Crusading for AA now?”

“Nat, no – c’mon, be serious,” he said. “I never saw you like that before. Something about all of this does not sit right with me somehow. Can you help me out here?”

“Why are you doing this, Leo?” I asked.

He gazed at me steadily. “Because I want my best friend back,” he said.

I stared at my hands in my lap. Tobey. I didn’t know if I could talk about him any more than I could talk about what had happened to me. But what did he mean – he wanted him back?

“Leo, what happened?” I asked, worried now.

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” he said, and took a swig of his ginger ale.

I wanted to ask about Tobey then, but I couldn’t find the words – or the courage.

“What do you want to know?”

Leo sighed. “I just wanna know what’s going on,” he said. “Do you use drugs, do you have multiple personalities, do you have an evil twin. . .”

I gasped.

He stopped. “I’m sorry, Nat. I just cannot figure this out. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“Leo, if I tell you this, you have to do one thing,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Please. Promise.”

“OK, I promise,” he said.

“Don’t tell Tobey,” my lip turning down in a quiver.

He gazed at me with that serious, penetrating stare again. “Natalia, what – “

“Leo . . .” It was uncontrollable, a choking sob was emitted with his name. “It was Brittany and Courtney, Leo. It had to have been.”

“What’d they do?” he asked warily.

I sniffled. “They – well, someone, slipped Rohypnol in my drink. I got the test results back last week.”

“Roofies?” he asked. “That date-rape shit?”

I nodded, the shame and guilt flooding my face, as tears came into my eyes. “I feel so dirty,” I told him.

“Oh, Natty . . . .” He reached over and gently took me into his arms in a brotherly display of comfort. “He was right. I should have looked out for you,” he mumbled.