The good old days. Everyone has heard this phrase at one point or another in their life. Generally by middle-aged or elderly people, but every now and then you get the youth who have had a few hard years and reflected back. Its usually referring to an easier time when thoughts weren't quite so deep and day-to-day problems weren't quite so bothersome.

I never thought I would be someone to say it. But somehow, standing there in front of the aging, wooden, front door, it was the only thing I could think of. And it made me nervous. So what if we had spent most of our youth cavorting together? None of that seemed to matter now. The hard-edged truth was we had drifted apart. We went to different colleges, we made new friends. We stopped taking time out of our lives to stay in contact with each other. Every six months or so, we might remember to send an e-mail informing the other where we are in the world and perhaps go as far as to mention a job title. But I guess this was to be expected. "Best friends forever" isn't something that usually works out.

Everything always hits me at the worst possible time, and, of course, that is happening yet again. One would think I would have had these reflections on the previous night or even on the plane. Not standing at her front door with my fingers clenching my suitcases and nerves running up and down my spine. And I'm not sure whether I'm more nervous to see her after so long, or because I now have to rely on someone I don't know anymore.

In the good old days when we were young and joyful, complaining about school and running a variety show on the web, this wouldn't have been an issue. I practically lived with her then, anyway. And yet… And yet there I stood, wetting my bottom lip over and over to throw off my jitters like dogs throw off heat.

When the door finally swung open, my heart only began to race faster instead of slowing in finally seeing the unknown. She looked good, to say the least. Long, dark brown hair falling just below her shoulders. Straight and silky, as always. Her almond eyes showed a little fear on her side too, but the way her lips curved up at the corners balanced it out. She was still long and thin and looking every bit as graceful as a ballerina. Her slender frame was dressed in long grey slacks and a button up white shirt. Silver dangly earrings hung from both ears.

And of course, seeing her just brings the memories flooding back even worse than the phone conversation we had had the day before, which had been extremely awkward. I think we both like to think when we were writing e-mails that we hadn't lost quite so much. Then the phone call had made it clear just how much distance was now between us.

Even so, I set down my suitcases and let her wrap her arms around me. She smelled like pumpkin pie. I could remember all of the times she had cooked dinner or dessert and how she would save some for me always, for the few nights I wasn't around to eat it with her and her brother. Spencer had gotten married five months before Carly's seventeenth birthday. I remember how hard it had been on her. Carly the saint, always feeling in the way of the newlyweds.

When we finally separated and took a step back to study each other once more, I felt a strong urge in my cheeks to blush, something I hadn't felt since high school.

"Hi." She said, reaching around me to grab my suitcase and hustle me into the house.

"Hi." I responded, thinking the conversation probably wouldn't stretch far beyond this.

I guess the worst part is I do know her. I know her better than most people. For ten years we told each other the deepest darkest desires of our hearts. On the other hand, it's been nearly eight years since we've actually spoken to each other. And a lot can happen in eight years. Which means I don't really know adult Carly at all.

Her house is nice, which is predictable for the Carly I remember. Orderly, everything clearly had a place. A coat rack and a small table and bowl on it for keys in the foyer. The living room calm and relaxed with pale happy colors, old sculptures of Spencer's decorating a few shelves in the corner, bringing even more memories back. She set my suitcases down on the couch before turning back to me.

"So… Uhm. Welcome back to Seattle."

My first instinct after graduating high school had been to run away. I'd never known my father and my mother was a less than perfect kind of person. I can't say I didn't love her, because I did. But watching her hurt too much. So I'd used college as my chance to escape. And this was truly my first time back to the city of my birth since. Carly had stayed. She'd gone to the university of Washington and bought a house a few miles from the loft she had shared with Spencer.

"Thanks," I said in a mumbled reply, hoping to sound the slightest bit sad. But really I felt like a failure. I had planned to never come back, to never rely on someone else again. Here I was, though.

"So, uh. You have your own bedroom and bathroom. Your half of the mortgage I'll need by the thirty first. And welcome home?" She said and it hit me then that she must have felt just as strange as I had moving in with her.

"Its really good to see you." I was glad to hear my voice didn't crack and the words seemed to make her happy.

She nodded. "Its good to see you too."

"And thanks for letting me move in with you. Even though this was all really sudden…" I tried to explain, but I let it go when she started shaking her head.

"Not a problem. I'm always here for you."

Carly is a very sincere person. But even now, I'm not sure how honest these words were. She was too nice to say no, but would she always be there for me? How could she be? I had become a stranger to my best friend.

"Do you want to go get some coffee and catch up? My treat." This probably showed her just how much had changed since we were last together. Ten years ago I would never have offered to treat.

"I'd love to," she started. "But I have to go to work. I'll be home by six. We'll catch up then, okay?"

I bobbed my head. "Sure."

She showed me to my bedroom and left.

Everything was white and clean from the walls to the desk to the bedspread. I slipped my shoes off by the door and sank my bare feet into the carpet. All my previous places had been quite dirty and ridiculously small, which is normal for a cheap place in Chicago or New York City. Part of me felt like I was contaminating a crime scene or the Garden of Eden by putting my suitcases on the bed and wandering around the room. I pull the white curtains to either side of the window frame and stared out. In my youth I had come to hate this city. Maybe coming back was a good thing. Perhaps I could get over this.

I unpacked as if this were a hotel I was staying only a night or two at. Every piece of clothing I pulled out of my luggage felt heavy and filthy in such a soft, white room. I think I've probably always felt this way around Carly. She was always soft and sweet and polite. I was obnoxious and over the top with too many hard edges and flaws to count. No matter how many years I've worked at refining myself, I will never be at her level.

I stretched out on the bed after my luggage was unpacked and stashed away in my closet. It was still hard to believe I was there at all. The truth, I had been fired from my previous job. I'd had an affair with my boss. Carly knew that much. What she didn't know was my last boss was a woman. She didn't know that I had jumped on the job offer in Seattle to run away from the issues that arose from that. Only, I had forgotten how much I had left behind in Seattle that I would now have to face. Mostly, her. Because the break in our relationship was entirely my fault.

It had been Valentine's Day, freshman year of college. I had driven the five hours between my college and her university to surprise her. I had been able to convince her to skip her classes that day and have fun with me instead. And all of that was great. Then nightfall came. Snow fell evenly from the sky around us as I walked her back to campus. We laughed and joked and I went all sentimental for long enough to admit how much I missed her. When we reached my car is when I decided to mess things up.

She had just looked so beautiful standing there with her dark hair and eyes, surrounded by white. And the next thing I had known, I had my fingers curled into her parka and my tongue in her mouth. I left early the next morning.

I rolled over and inhaled the delicate scent of freshly laundered sheets. It had been extremely surprising when I had e-mailed her to say I had taken a job in Seattle and she had offered her second bedroom to me. My brain kept flashing back to that kiss so many years ago, wondering if she even remembered and if she hated me for it. Or maybe for the fact that I shoved her out of my life after.

Carly arrived back home precisely at six with a large bag of Chinese food. She sat at the dining room table with her back straight and her legs crossed. She'd pulled her hair back after she had slipped out of her shoes and called me out of my room for dinner. It made her look more like the Carly I remembered.

"How was your day?" She questioned as she pulled out little boxes of rice and noodles and different types of meats.

I shrugged, taking the plate she offered me. "Fine. I didn't do anything."

"Are you all unpacked?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's something." She could always see the positive side of things.

"How was yours?" It felt weird to talk like this. We had always had an underlying sarcastic tone or spoke in a joking manner. This was so serious and straightforward, like she was my mother. Like we had just met for a blind date. Or perhaps an old married couple accepting that things were never going to go back to the way they were when we were young.

She bobbed her head. "It was fine. I rented a movie on my home. I thought we could watch it together."

Her eyes were hopeful, which caused all of the guilt I had felt when I had abandoned her so many years ago to come rushing back. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I wasn't hungry. I shoved my plate back and bowed my head. I could feel tears coming on and I dared them to fall.

"I'm sorry." I bit my lip, finally making eye contact with her.

"For what?" She cocked her head, curling her fingers around my wrist.

I pushed my chair back and hopped to my feet, yanking myself away from her. "Don't you remember?" I demanded of her.

"Remember what?" She got to her feet too, taking cautious steps towards me.

I felt shaky. "For abandoning you!" I yelled at her.

She froze and frowned. "Abandoning me?"

"Yes! Remember? I drove up for Valentine's Day freshman year and then I stopped returning your calls and visiting and allowing you to visit me." Now the tears were coming, streaming down my face like they filled in the gap so many years apart had put in our relationship.

She looked down, glancing towards the door. "You didn't abandon me." She said lightly.

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't. I didn't make an effort either. You scared me that night. And I wasn't sure I wanted to see you again." She admitted with a sad smile.

The tears halted in my shock. "What?"

"I couldn't figure out what I was feeling after you kissed me. So I decided it was better to just leave it alone and focus on school and other things. I pushed you out too. But-" Her hands fell to her sides.

"But?" I prompted.

"But when you told me you were moving back, I got really excited. And I was hoping you wouldn't remember that or think about it at least and maybe I could have you back in my life. I was so nervous when I saw you this morning. But I was also really happy. Maybe we could just start over? Forget about all of that and just begin again?"

We watched the movie together. We sat on opposite sides of the couch with our legs entwined. We made snide comments about the acting and the plot and smiled politely at each other. At around eleven, we shut off the lights and shut the curtains, parting to go to bed.

I lay there for hours, wide awake. Begin again, she had said. Move on, forget about the past. But how could we start over when we had so much history?