She sat where the deep green water bled into the sand, and dug her cracked heels deeper into the shore. The gulf air blew through her hair and swept it back into the ocean breeze. She was wearing soggy denim shorts, a black tank top, and a sweat-stained bright red bra.  On her nails were the clinging remains of a very expensive gel manicure, and below her eyes were the last hints of very cheap eyeliner. She stared out at the Gulf of Mexico for hours, being beaten away by the waves like a smooth ocean pebble. The sun was setting when she finally stood up. She brushed the salt and sand off of her calves and thighs; she slinked through the sand dunes and up to the boardwalk.
Her feet squished against the wood and wet sand as she approached the gate, entered in the code, and walked to her sister's condominium. Amy was chopping tomatoes as she walked through the door. "Diana! Did you have a nice beach walk?" she asked.
"It was nice. I still can't believe you own this place," Diana replied.
"Being a lawyer pays off. Are you staying for dinner, or going out? I'm making bruschetta and spaghetti. Jonathan and Katie are coming over."
"Who?" Diana asked, staring intently at the gleam of Amy's knife.
"Jonathan and Katie! Remember them? I shared an apartment with Katie in Queens. Jonathan is her husband."
"Oh yeah, them. Sure. I'd love to see them again."
"Wonderful. But please take a shower. I can't have my successful-lawyer image tarnished by a sister who smells like a rug from the Titanic." Amy made a swishing motion towards the bathroom with her knife. "Go. Now."
"I was about to anyways," said Diana, any fight in her voice beaten out by the tide. Amy went back to chopping. Diana went to the bathroom, flipped on the lights, and closed the door.
Diana unbuttoned her chafing denim shorts and slowly wriggled them down her long legs. She slipped off her underwear and gently pulled her tank top off of her shoulders. She reached back to unfasten the hooks of her bra, and slipped the straps down her arms and onto the shiny marble floor. She stared at the full-body mirror on the back of the door. A woman that was only vaguely familiar stared back. Diana pressed her fingers to her sharp hipbones and ran them down her thighs; the woman in the mirror did the same. Her skin felt dry and mountainous, like fissures could form and split wide open and she would overflow like magma released from deep below the earth.
She rubbed her fingers over her breasts; breasts that a boy from college whose name she could not remember had once tenderly kissed and said that the topography of her was the most exquisite subject he had ever studied. She wondered what became of him as the woman in the mirror copied her every move. The woman curiously analyzed her swelling volumes and sudden crevices. She ran her fingers through her hair as Diana felt where her roots began, and wondered where the brain synapses ended.
"Hey! I don't hear any water running!" Amy yelled from the kitchen. Diana and the woman snapped to attention. "Are you showering yet?"
"Yeah, I'm just about to get in, sorry!" Diana shouted back. The rhythmic sound of chopping resumed as Diana stepped into the tub. She pulled the shower curtain behind her and turned on the water. The showerhead spurted to life and washed thousand-year-old salts and minerals off of Diana's back and down the drain. She thumbed through Amy's impressive collection of shampoos, soaps, and conditioners until she found her favorite scents (lavender, coconut, fresh-washed linen). She lathered the lavender shampoo in her hands and meticulously rubbed it through her stringy hair.
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"It is now 7:06.  You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here.  To ponder the error of your ways."
Mr. Vernon disciplined the Breakfast Club while Diana sat in the back row of the cinema. They were showing 80s movies all weekend. Diana had used a free movie voucher that she won from a trivia game at Austen's Tavern. Her face was hot and wet and sticky. Amy should be here with her, but she had just left to go to law school in New York City. Diana was about to start her senior year of high school. In the middle of her junior year, the guidance counselor had scheduled an appointment with her.
"So, Diana. You'll be graduating soon. Just over a year left." The counselor was a short, older man with a stern expression and a very small tuft of hair left.
"Yes," Diana said quietly, eyes to the cold linoleum.
"What are your plans? Where are you applying to college?"
"I don't know yet."
"Alright, fair enough. Let's create an idea of where you'd fit best. What's your SAT score?"
"I haven't taken it yet."
"ACT?"
"I haven't taken that yet either." The counselor rubbed his fingers on his temples.
"What's your GPA then, at least?"
"A 3.2, I think."
"That's not so bad. Did you have an in-state or an out-of-state college in mind?"
"In-state."
"How about University of South Carolina? Or Furman? Furman has a beautiful campus."
"Maybe."
"Diana." The guidance counselor looked her straight in the eyes. "You are graduating much sooner than you think. You need a plan."
"Okay."
And now it was August, and the plan still wasn't there. And she didn't even have an outline of a plan. The future loomed over her, massive, vague, and terrifying.
"You're a big coward," Claire said, her voice booming over the surround sound. "I'm sorry," Diana whispered under her breath.
"I'm in the math club," said Brian. Diana stared at the uneven ridges of her fingernails and picked at the cuticles.
"See, you're afraid that they won't take you, you don't belong, so you have to just dump all over it."
"Well, it wouldn't have anything to do with you activities people being a**holes, now would it?" Bender snarled at his fellow Saturday prisoners.
"Well, you wouldn't know, you don't even know any of us." Diana had one year to be somebody.
"Well, I don't know any lepers, but I'm not going to run out and join one of their f***ing clubs."
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Diana shut off the water and stepped onto the bath mat. She grabbed one of Amy's plush towels and patted herself dry, then wrapped herself in the luxurious bathrobe that was hanging from a hook on the door. "Diana!" She heard Amy's voice booming through the door once again. "Jonathan and Katie just called! They say they'll be here in about two minutes! Please hurry up!"
"I'm done, I just need to get dressed, hang on!" Diana went to the guest bedroom and searched through the closet. She flipped through a few garments before settling on a pair of black jeans and a silky pink blouse.
"Diana! They're here!"
"Just a second, sorry!" Diana put on a pair of flip flops, ran a comb through her still-soaking hair, and gave herself a light spritz of body spray. She took a deep breath, waited a few seconds, and walked into the living room.
"Diana, darling, how are you?" Katie gave Diana a hug so tight she thought she might asphyxiate. She wore a sheer dress that caught the light as it moved, giving her an ethereal quality.
"I'm great, thank you," Diana replied. "How have you been?"
"Oh, absolutely marvelous. I just got a promotion. I'm an executive now, can you believe it?" Katie beamed.
"I knew you were destined for greatness, Katie," said Amy.
"Oh, Amy!" Katie gave Amy a kiss on the cheek. Her bubblegum-pink lipstick left the slightest mark behind. "Maybe one day I'll be able to catch up to you! Having your own firm and everything."
"It can be very stressful, you know. Not everything it's cracked up to be," said Amy, with a slight smirk that betrayed her humility.
"I know, but I'm sure the pay is magnificent."
"Can't lie about that. It's why I have this summer condo. Jonathan, how have you been?" Jonathan was a tall man with a stocky build and well-manicured nails.
"Business has been booming," he said. "It seems as if everyone wants me to take their portrait nowadays."
"I'm so proud of him," said Katie with a smile. Amy nodded.
"Well. I've got a hot bowl of spaghetti and I'd hate to have to eat it alone. Shall we get started with dinner?" Amy pushed her old friends into the modest niche with a table she called the dining room. "Diana? Could you go check on the bruschetta in the oven and grab a bottle of wine? I need to finish tossing the sauce," she said.
"Of course," said Diana, turning back into the kitchen with a slight pressure off of her chest.
"I like a White Zinfandel, if you please!" shouted Katie from her seat. Diana gave a slight nod. She approached the oven and pulled open the stainless steel door. A puff of white smoke jumped in her eyes. Her pores watered.
"Amy!" yelled Diana, "I think this is a little bit burnt." She pulled the pan out of the oven and set it on the stove. Amy rushed in to inspect the damage.
"S***. S*** s*** s***," Amy swore at the charcoal masquerading as an appetizer. "I can't serve this. Not to Katie and Jonathan."
"They're your friends. I think they'll be okay with a little over-toasty bruschetta."
"Katie might. Have you never met Jonathan? His family's ridiculously wealthy. He knows I'm successful but he thinks I have the breeding or whatever to match. This food has to be good for him."
"Why do you care what he thinks?"
"He's my best friend's husband! God knows I love Katie, but she's a total status-seeker. I don't want Jonathan to convince her that she deserves better!"
"Amy. Are you really this insecure about something as ridiculous as burnt bread?"
"Yes! Okay. Okay. Here's what we're going to do," said Amy, succinctly emphasizing each syllable. "You're going to get in the car. You're going to drive into town and find the nearest Olive Garden. You're going to order bruschetta for takeout. Then, you will drive to the nearest liquor store and purchase the most expensive bottle of wine they have. You will drive back here. I will apologize for the delay and present the wine as a gift to Jonathan and Katie for waiting. Okay?"
"This seems over the top for the situation at hand," said Diana, the corner of her mouth tilted downward.
"Trust me, it's not. Now go! Go go go!" Diana sighed and walked over to the key rack. "Jonathan, Katie, so sorry about this, but I realized that I forgot to get a very important ingredient in my delicious bruschetta. I've sent Diana off to the supermarket to get it. In the mean time, I'm sure this spaghetti will please you both." Amy's words trailed off into silence as Diana walked out the door and down to the parking lot.
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"You b****. You f***ing whore. Look at me. LOOK AT ME." Diana was sitting on the bus with her cheek pressed against the window. Amy was at her side. A few rows behind them, a man was threatening a female passenger, not loud enough to be considered shouting, but just so that the surrounding passengers could hear it.
"Shouldn't we say something?" Diana whispered at Amy.
"No. Look at him. He looks huge. He could hurt us. Don't you want to live past your bat mitzvah? He'll kill us."
"What if he kills that woman?"
"I don't know, Diana. I'm sorry."
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Diana slowly closed the door behind her and tiptoed into Amy's condo. Amy caught sight of her and rushed to pick up the packages.
"Thank you," Amy said, and gave her a light peck on the cheek. "Jonathan! Katie! I have our appetizer, and a gift to apologize for your wait!" Amy took Diana by the arm and walked her into the dining room. Jonathan and Katie smiled at them with a hint of pleasantness. "Diana, sit. I saved a seat for you. There's still a bit of pasta left. I'll go finish the bruschetta." Diana pulled out the empty chair by the cleanest plate and sat down. She was directly across from Jonathan. Katie was fumbling with her wedding ring. Jonathan was staring blankly across the room. Diana ran her finger across the edge of her plate. A clink of glass. A gentle cough. Amy re-entered with the Olive Garden appetizer, cleverly disguised to look like a dish of her own invention.
"I hope you guys are still hungry!" she said with a smile.
"I'm starving," said Diana.
"I could eat," said Jonathan.
"Good," said Amy. "Because I made this all. By myself. I hope you enjoy it!" She sat the steaming plate down before them and sat down next to Diana. The air was pierced only by the sound of utensils hitting plates. Finally, Amy spoke again.
"So, Jonathan. You're a photographer. Tell Diana about that!"
"Well, it's a good business I guess. I wish I could do more artistic work. Weddings are the worst, and I have to do them all the time. All these damn k**** keep hiring me to photograph their damn weddings and their damn bar mitzvahs." Silence. The sound of a fork hitting a plate. Diana looked down, then to Amy. Amy gave a slight cough that sounded as if it was stuck at the back of her throat. Katie looked to the side. Jonathan kept talking about his photography. Diana kept staring at Amy, whose eyes were now cast downwards to the napkin on her lap. Katie cleared her throat.
"Well, Amy, tell us about work! You've really got it great nowadays, being an in-demand civil rights lawyer!" Katie made direct eye contact with Amy, trying to get her to divert the conversation in any way possible. Amy was now in the process of rubbing her finger against the table hard enough to bore a hole through it. She caught Katie's gaze and immediately stood up. The sudden scrape of her chair startled the entire dinner party.
"Yes! Yes, my work is going very well. I'm working on a case for the Anti-Defamation League right now, yes. It's very exciting. To rid the world of its injustices. To take a stand for what's right." She glanced to Jonathan. "It's good work. It's important work."
"Amy?" asked Diana, "I have a question about...about the wine. Can we discuss it in the kitchen?"
"Oh, Diana, sweetheart, we can discuss it here!" interjected Katie. "I'm a wine connoisseur. Please, don't be embarrassed! Wine is a difficult and complicated subject. But I'm always glad to educate!"
"No, um, I didn't want to talk about the wine itself per se-- I wanted to ask--to ask about her experience buying it!" Diana spat out.
"Anything you want to discuss in the kitchen we can discuss at the table. Jonathan and Katie are our guests! Please treat them with the respect that they deserve," Amy said with an overly calm and polite tone.
"No, no, I'm rather we discuss it in the kitchen. Please. Now."
"Damn Amy, just go make your sister happy. Hurry up before you burn desert too," said Jonathan. He was picking at his fingernails and swirling the last bit of wine around in his glass.
"--Burn? Burn desert? Too? No, no, I've burned nothing, see--"
"Come on!" Diana dragged Amy out of the dining niche. Amy stumbled behind her, wide-eyed, mumbling to herself. They stopped in front of the refrigerator. "You didn't tell me Jonathan was an Anti-Semite," whispered Diana.
"I didn't know!" said Amy.
"Why didn't you say something to him?"
"Well why didn't you, if you're so pissed about it!"
"He's your damn guest!"
"Look, I didn't want to make things awkward--"
"--you didn't want to stop the kiss-a** parade, that's what you didn't want--"
"--you don't get it, Diana, you just don't. Besides, I've never heard you once speak up. All you want is for someone else to speak up for you, so you can stand behind them without having to go to the trouble of actually putting yourself out there." Amy put her hands on Diana's shoulders.
"What do you mean? Of course I can stand up for myself," Diana said with a defensive edge.
"No. You can't. Not alone, anyways."
"But I--"
"Diana. This conversation is over. We are going back to the dining room. We are going to sit at the table. We are going to make polite and pleasant conversation with both Katie and Jonathan, and you are at least going to act like you're enjoying it. Okay?"
"Okay." Amy took Diana by the hand and led her back to the table.
"Is everything alright?" asked Katie.
"Oh, yeah, everything is lovely!" remarked Amy. "Diana was just arguing with me about...the wine vintage. She thought I should have picked an older one, better flavor, you know, but a sommelier that I met in Paris insisted that 1984 was just the finest year..."
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"Amy? Amy, where are you?" Diana opened the door to the boat deck. "Amy, are you out here? Carrie's looking for a bottle opener. Amy?" She peaked her head and looked out the starboard side. The waves were tumultuous tonight. Cautiously, she stepped onto the deck. "Amy?"
She heard a vague clinking of glasses on the upper deck, and Amy's melodious giggle drifted down through the wind. Diana sighed. "Amy! Can you help me? Carrie needs to crack a beer bottle!"
"I'll be down in a minute, hang on! Dan's telling me a hilarious story!" said Amy with a carefree lilt in her voice. Diana mumbled to herself, but otherwise decided to stop asking. Forty years with Amy taught a woman when to quit. She stretched her arms over the railing to pull at her sore muscles and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath of the salty air; listened intently to the waves pounding against the ship. Slap. Slap. Slap. She imagined going back to her office job on Monday, a job that she'd always hated but never had the courage or motivation or even the means to leave. Slap. Slap. Slap.

Clink clink clink. "Hello everyone!" Diana heard Amy's voice ringing through the clear night air. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming for celebrate the 20th anniversary of Amelia Abecmel, P.A! We've changed so many lives for the better over the past two decades, and all of you ought to be very proud of the work that you've done!" The upper deck cheered. Diana imagined grabbing onto one of the many stars in the sky and shooting herself billions of light-years away. She reached out to the brightest spark in the immediate celestial vicinity.

"It hasn't always been easy," continued Amy, "but we have always pulled through. And how have we pulled through?"

Diana kept reaching, standing on tiptoe, the most innocent part of her mind hoping to touch a single ray of starlight.

"We have pulled through by always standing up for what we believe in, no matter the consequences."

Diana was almost there. It was like the waves were cheering her on. Slap. Slap. Slap. She stretched out just a little further and--

CRASH. A massive wave hit the side of the boat, sending Diana tumbling into the freezing water below. Wave after wave rushed over her head, pushing her further and further down.

She couldn't gasp; she didn't have the luxury of the air for that. She lay stiff in the water as she felt herself get colder. The ocean and stars were swirling around her, increasingly blending into an indiscernible haze.

Amy's voice became muffled as the distance between Diana and the boat increased, and as Diana lost oxygen. "You must always be brave in our profession. You can't let any kind of trifle get you down."

And Diana went down.
And down.
And down.
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Katie and Jonathan had left for the night. Diana and Amy were doing the dishes. "Dinner was delicious," said Diana, talking into the bowl that she was scrubbing.
"Thank you," said Amy. Their voices were curt. Painfully pleasant. "What do you want to do tomorrow? I don't have to go back to work until next week. We can spend some time together."
"I don't know," said Diana.
"I was thinking of going swimming. There's a nice pool just a short drive away. They have a hot tub too. And a bar. Does that sound okay?" Diana set aside her sponge and grabbed a towel. She vigorously rubbed the bowl.
"Sure," she said, still avoiding eye contact. "That sounds like fun."
"Great."
_