Waking up this morning, alot of things seemed to have settled like silt in her mind and had made the waters clear. Andria was sick of being carefully out of control, of thinking she had a leash on things when in fact she was being pulled along by the animal at the other end. She wasn't going to go to the club anymore. All she had to do was say it and it would be done because, she realized, she really did have the control. And so she allowed herself to think back on the past instead of hiding it. She was so good at pushing the past out of her memory, memories of the parents she hated and the brother she loved, that she hadn't seen the even stronger grip it had on her life, the opposite effect of what she intended by the suppression. Looking at it and examining it is what actually let her have control. Because now she could learn from the past. She didn't go back to see her brother, and she kept going out to the club, and she stayed mostly to herself, and she'd never allowed herself to get close to a guy she liked and all because she still had her parents in her head. They had developed from the quietly angry and judgmental people that went through the house into the hateful shout that was her inner voice. Last night had led her to see the influence of her parents when she became the screaming angry girl that she never knew herself to be. She decided that it would not happen again. Sitting at the small dining table and drinking her hot herbal tea she planned an unannounced visit to her childhood home. Her brother Allen needed to know about this realization. Hopefully it wasn't too late for him.

Omar thumbed throught the dusty cardboard record sleeves. He chuckled at some of the cover art which included pictures of long haired hippies in daisy fields or one with a man in a tight glittery pink body suit who made up for his balding head with a remarkably thick greasy moustache and proudly displayed chest hair. He left the record section and moved on to what he'd came there for. On some shelves on the wall at the back of the store were the packages of blank sheet music wrapped in soft transparent tissue paper. There were so many colors to choose from . Hues and tints created by mottling the off-white paper with fibers from dyed pulps. His eyes initially fell onto the packages of green shaded paper. He reached out and ran a finger along the edge of one. But he got to thinking that this fixation with the color green was just unhealthy. To others it may appear to be just a quirk but he knew it was just a failing attempt to feel normal within his family that had followed him on when he moved out on his own. Why couldn't he just accept reality? He did not have green eyes. He should accept that his eyes were brown. Lots of people have brown eyes. The Dasher probably had beautiful brown eyes. And then there was the reality of his fixation with The Dasher. He needed to just face the fact that if he ever wanted to know her real name he would have to actually talk to her like a human being. Mar picked up a package of blue and walked over to the register.

She saw Allen peer through the blinds at the front window to see who rang the doorbell and the shocked and then excited expression in his eyes. She figured that this afternoon would be a safe time to come see him since their parents would still be at work. The front door flew open and she was tackled into a hug on the front porch from someone much bigger then she remembered her little brother to be. He had grown taller than her and telling from his hug he'd grown much stronger. Allen finally pulled back from the hug and looked out to the street nervously, then pulled her quickly inside the house.

"Our parents won't be home for another two hours, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm just a little...your right. I shouldn't worry about them. I'm so glad to see you! It's been, what, over a year?" A sad expression replaced the smile. "Why didn't you...call or, like, write or something. I didn't know where you were except that you were living with Robert."

"I know. I'm so sorry. I was stupid and afraid. But I realized something. Something you should know. Let's sit down so we can talk."

While they both sat on the couch, Andria squeezed Allen's hand and explained to him why she had stayed away for so long and the clarity that had brought her here today. She told him that he would be turning eighteen soon and that he was welcome to come stay with her if he needed to. He nodded but then told her, "Actually, I don't think I'm going to move in with you."

"Don't worry about Mom and Dad. Trust me, I've been worrying about what they think of me for years too long. Don't do the same thing."

"It's not that. I got into the University. They said my grades were so good they would pay for everything. Room and board. I need your help to move me into my dorm room this fall. I haven't told Mom and Dad and I know they're not going to help me."

"Of course! Oh my gosh, this is great! Yeah, me and Robert will be right there to help you. Robert knows about that type of stuff I guess. He's the one in school so--"

"Why didn't you ever go to the art school, Andria?"

Andria pulled her hand away from him and placed it between her knees. She hadn't thought about the art school for some time. She had put the notion out of her mind because she knew she wouldn't be able to pay for it on her own. "I don't have the money. It's hard enough keeping a roof over my own head. But I still paint and draw when I can. I'm actually working on one right now. It's of this...this guy I know. It needs a bit more work, though."

"Just keep painting, Andria. Keep doing it because I know you love it and I'm sure you'll find a way to have people admire your work like I always have." He gave her a sweet smile.

"I'm proud of you, Allen. Here's my phone number. Call me anytime it gets rough in here, 'kay? I think I better go now."

She stood up from the couch and Allen stood up to get the door for her. He opened the door and walked out with her onto the porch where they gave each other another hug. Andria was leaving, walking down the steps of the front porch, when she saw an unfamiliar silver car pull up into the driveway. She didn't recognize it as her parent's car, but she soon realized it belonged to her parents when her mother stepped out of it. Must be new. Her mother stepped out and closed the door but stayed standing on the driver side of the car. She noticed her mother had put on some weight. Her cheeks looked plump. She was wearing her navy blue work suit but it was tight around her widening stomach. Andria hoped to God that her mother wasn't pregnant. Not another child to screw up.

"What are you doing!" Her mother shouted at her. Her eyes squinted in anger. She pointed a swollen finger, at Andria. "I said, what do you think your doing?!"

Andria stepped down the last step of the porch and stopped at the passenger side of the car and looked right at her mother. Looking at her, she was assured that in fact her mother's unhappiness was not her fault. It was not her fault or her brother's fault that her parents were unhappy. They had never really been happy, even before they had kids. They were just miserable ungrateful people.

"What am I doing?," she smiled. "Loving myself! Loving my brother! Loving! Living! For God's sake, I am living!" Her mother's mouth gaped as Andria turned and blew a kiss to her brother, and then ran down the driveway laughing and around the corner. She ran but she didn't think she was running away from something this time. She was just running towards something better.

As he walked out of the store and stuffed the reciept and the change in his jeans pocket he felt the warm outdoor air rush at him. It smelled of rain. He wasn't wearing his usual green corduroy jacket so he wasn't too uncomfortable in the humidity. He had on a thin grey cotton t-shirt that fit him a little tight because it was the only not-green shirt he could find. But a fitted tee is fashionable these days, he thought. He crossed the street to get to the other sidewalk. He looked up at the trees overhead. The sunlight was beaming through the little spaces between the leaves and the leaves appeared to have a light green glow. Green is a good color, he thought. It's a color that's fresh and alive. He thought to himself that he should stop wearing it and start being it. Start being alive. He smiled at himself as he thought. Why was he being so self-help and optimistic all of a sudden? Normally, he would be dragging his butt around moping over what happened last night with The Dasher. Rejection was always a very sore spot. But something was telling him that he should stop avoiding the hard things in life and just do it! If he failed, so what? But if he succeeded, that could mean everything. There are other fish in the sea, he thought, and he was, afterall, a very keen swimmer! Then he looked up to see an ice cream cone vender sitting at the corner. Suddenly he craved some strawberry ice cream so he joined the line to get a scoop. As he stood there lined up behind a mother with a dribbling toddler in one arm and the other hand keeping a fidgety young girl at her side, he felt a cool breeze blow across his back and heard the plodding of boots. He turned his head, curious to see who was running down the sidewalk and he caught the back of a girl wearing a tan tank top and a black fluttering skirt running on strong legs. He thought for a moment. 'But you just can't identify a person, practically a stranger, on legs alone. But what if it's her? What if she's crying?' Omar started walking away from the ice cream stand, then he jogged, then he ran to catch up to her. If it wasn't her then he'd apologize and just be embarrassed for a second. If it was her it would mean... He ran faster and then started to call at her.

"Hey! Hey! Could you stop running for a second?!" The girl stopped and turned around so quickly that he didn't have time to register in his mind that it was in fact The Dasher and also stop his legs from moving so he stopped within inches of her and reflexively put his hands out and onto her shoulders to stop himself and shield her from the impact. She was smiling up at him. She wasn't crying? She was OK?

"Your OK?"

"Uhhh, yeah."

"Oh." He realized how close he was to her and stepped back from her and snatched away his hands from her smooth brown shoulders.

"Your sure?" He inquired.

Her face became serious. "Heyyyy...I know you!"

"Oh, um, yeah I'm that, uh, that guy who--"

She smiled, "Your The Seer! Oh!" She slapped a hand to cover her mouth. "I didn't mean to say that. Sorry."

"No," he grinned, "And you are The Dasher."

"Wha? You have a name for me?" She giggled. Then her face became serious again. Omar watched nervously anticipating the next reaction.

"I yelled at you, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, kind of but it's no big deal."

"I'm so sorry. Honestly. That wasn't me at all."

"I know." Goodness, she was beautiful. Her hair was back in a ponytail, not with the bangs out like he was used to. With her hair away from her face he could see how naturally pretty she was. Softly arched eyebrows, cute little nose and full lips. Omar's face started to heat up as he thought about what he'd just said. Why did I say that? he thought. I know? Really?! Stop being creepy!

But Andria just smiled. She was thinking that the painting she had done was accurate but not quite. He had a strong jaw balanced by his soft curly hair. He had a cute little nose and soft lips. But the eyes, she'd gotten them wrong. But not all wrong. Though not green they were still unearthly. Mystical even. A beautiful soft brown brought out by his dark full eyelashes. He was staring at her but it didn't bother her. Him looking down at her always did make her feel safe. She hoped he would take off his green rimmed glasses so she could see his eyes better. She was going to have to change that in the painting, the eyes. He really should see her work.

"You know what?" she said, "I have something I need to show you. Do you mind coming over to my place for a sec? It looks like its going to rain anyways."

Omar looked up at the sky. The sun was still out but the clouds looked heavy with rain. "Yeah, sure, of course!" Omar beamed. "But could I get your name?"

"Andria." The rain started to drizzle down on them.

"I'm Omar." He put out his hand and Andria shook it but she didn't let it go. It had started to rain harder. "I think we should run, Omar." She smiled. He nodded. Andria pulled his arm and they both started running down the sidewalk.

"You can call me Mar, actually. Its spanish for--"

"Spanish for sea, right? I have to show you something Mar. I knew the painting wasn't right. And now I know just how to fix it."

They ran hand in hand up the sidewalk. Rain dripped down their faces as they smiled to themselves. They ran as fast as they could.