Sharon settled onto the couch with her clipboard in hand. "How are you doing?"

"Oh,you know, the usual," Kelly replied. She brightened. "My wrists are healing up nicely. I can get the stitches out In a couple of days."

"Good. How are things with Joe?"

"Well," she hesitated. "He's being REAL nice to me. He made me a sandwich. And, we took a shower together."

The therapist watched as Kelly burst into laughter. "You know, Kelly, you're a tough one to read. I can only help you if you can be open and honest with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I upsetting you?"

"Kelly, this isn't my session! Whether you upset me or not has nothing to do with this! This session is for you!"

"Well I guess I have a hard time with that. I'm supposed to tell you my deepest darkest secrets, but I don't know any of yours. It doesn't seem fair."

Sharon just looked at her.

"I mean, I feel like you're my friend, sort of. So I do care about your feelings. It's confusing! Frankly, I'm not sure what good this is doing."

"You have a tendency to try to protect people. Especially your boyfriend."

"Oh."

"Yeah; by hiding the facts, you're protecting him."

"Really?"

"Sure. Now you're trying to protect me." Sharon bent over, pulled off her shoes, and folded one leg up beneath herself.

"Well, I guess you're right. I don't want to hurt anyone. I guess I don't want to be the bad guy."

She paused, sighed, and then continued. "Okay. Well, I guess the worst thing that has happened lately was when Joe burned me in the shower."

"Oh." Sharon looked up suddenly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I got out quick. I guess the water wasn't enough to blister me. But it was my fault that it happened. He told me to get out, and I know he's got a temper."

"Kelly, I want you to think about something. When a man batters a woman, who do you think the bad guy is?"

"The man?"

"You've got it."

Kelly paused for a moment. "Well, It's really not that simple. I don't know why I'm so thoughtless sometimes. I mean, part of it has to be my fault."

"Sure it is. But only because you permit it to happen."

"What can I do about it?"

"Leave him."

"But that still won't solve my problem."

"Of course it will! Go out on your own and flnd a new life for yourself. Do something that makes you happy. Do something you think is worthwhile. But most importantly, stay away from people who make you feel like you're nothing."

"Do you know how many times in my life I've tried to do that?" Kelly snapped.

Sharon leaned back in her seat and smiled politely.

"I'm sorry," Kelly mumbled.

***

The office echoed pleasantly with the sound of soft conversation. Dozens of cubicles were lined up in rows. Each contained a computer and telephone, and was occupied by a counselor with headphones who gazed at the screen, attention focused on a voice only they could hear.

Kelly sat at her desk before her computer and plugged her headphones in. A note was dropped in front of her. She picked it up and read, "Callback - Jane McDougal, Houston. Needs a dentist."

She punched out the number written on the note, and listened to the whirring buzz of the ringing phone. When a woman answered, she said, "Mrs. McDougal? Hi, I'm Kelly from Macro Health Services. I've got a message here that you need me to search for a dentist. Let me explain how it works..."

Her own voice rang in her ears, crisp and professional, but friendly -- honed to perfection. Still, she barely knew what she was saying. She had the words memorized and didn't listen anymore. "Macro Health is a doctor/patient computer matching service. First I'll ask you some questions to determine what kind of dentist you're looking for, and then do a computer search to find the ones that match those qualities..."

As she spoke, she looked over at Isabel, sitting at her own desk across the aisle. Isabel grinned, a big, toothy smile framed by bright red lipstick, and gave her the "thumbs up" sign.

Kelly focused back on her call, as her introduction was drawing to a close. She began to scroll the computer. "Let's see. You want laughing gas? Oh. Painless. I see. I'm sorry, we don't carry painless dentists. No, just kidding." She giggled.

A note floated down over her head. It was written in green ink, with big, loopy scrawls. "See me after this call."

She looked up at Isabel and nodded.

"What'sup, Izzy?" she asked as they walked toward the break room together.

"Listen," Izzy whispered fiercely. "I'm not supposed to tell you this. Hell, I shouldn't even know about it!"

"What?"

"Well, I know this guy, right? His name's Edgar Poma and he's a reporter for the Boulder Times. I told you I do some freelance stuff for him -"

"Oh?" Kelly smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "And how long has this lancing been going on?"

"Kelly!" Isabel gasped, grabbed her friend's arm and doubled over with laughter. "Stop! The guy's married. He's got three kids."

"Yeah, yeah; Huey, Dewey and Loule Poma. So, what's the story?"

"This is, like, so cool. Edgar's regular photographer broke his leg -"

"Oh, I get it. His misfortune is your good fortune."

"Yeah!" Isabel was flushed with excitement. "Ed has a scoop and he wants me to go take pictures. They're going to evacuate Nederland!"

"What?" Kelly stopped, and stared at her.

"I know! That's why I had to tell you! There's this thing in space. A comet or something. It's planning to smash right in the middle of town! Maybe right in the middle of your duplex!"

Kelly laughed, shook her head, and walked on. "This is crazy. Why didn't they shoot it down?"

"It is skipping on the atmosphere or something."

"Then how do they know where it's going to fall?"

Isabel sighed in exasperation. "Do I look like a rocket scientist?"

"Nah. Maybe a rockette."

"Funny."

Kelly went over to the vending machine, fumbling in her pocket, and dropped some change into the slot. Isabel watched as she hit the button, then punched it several more times. The machine stood silent, stoic, refusing to give up its goods.

"Darn it!" Kelly said.

"Hey! Watch the language! Hang on; here, I'll do it."

Izzy marched over to the machine, her spike heels clicking authoritatively across the cold tiles. She turned, and smashed it with her elbow. The machine obediently dropped its M&Ms. Isabel reached down and picked them up. She handed them to Kelly, "You have to get mad at it."

They sat down at a table. Isabel was on the edge of her chair, leaning forward eagerly. It was clear to her that Kelly didn't seem to get the significance of this. A meteor, crashing in their area! This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a young photographer.

Izzy fiddled with her gold bangle bracelets as she spoke. "I have a feeling that this could be my big break."

"It is kind of a big deal, isn't it?" Kelly was struggling to open the candy wrapper. "I remember hearing about this on the news the other day. Some thing flying through space. Is this the same thing?"

"I think so. It must have been. It's quite famous already. They call it the 'mirror ball' meteor. It, like, sparkles or something. Edgar says we're lucky to have it happening right here. It's going to get national attention."

"That's cool! Congratulatlons, Iz!"

Isabel beamed. "Thanks. One thing, though, Kel. Not a word to anyone, okay? This is Edgar's story."

"Yes, but if they're going to evacuate a whole town, it won't be a secret for long." She held out the bag of candy, but Isabel waved it away.

"That's true. But he wants to be the first one up there."

"When is all this supposed to happen, anyway?" Kelly tried to keep the skepticism out of her tone. Isabel was so dramatic!

"The day after tomorrow. Six a.m. Edgar's setting up a blind for us, so we can get a good view. Wanna come along? Hey, you know what? You can stay with me!"

"Thanks, Izzy, for the offer. I think I'd like to go along. It might be fun. I'll see what Joe says."

Izzy felt a mild irritation prickle through hen Kelly had a bad habit of needing Joe's permission for everything. She couldn't understand It. Izzy took great pride in her own independence. She had always held a job from the time she was fourteen years old. She had put herself through college. She'd be damned if any man would run her life. She often wondered why Kelly didn't just leave Joe. Time and time again, Izzy had asked her, and the reply was always a confusing jumble of feeble excuses. The only conclusion that Izzy could draw was that Kelly was afraid to face life on her own. It must be tough, Izzy thought, to be that needy.

Still, looking at her friend, Izzy could only feel a warm affection. How could she not love Kelly? How could she not admire that tenacious humor that always popped up, no matter how tough things were? Sometimes Izzy wished that Kelly were her sister, instead of that jerk Izzy had grown up with. Kelly needed a sister; someone who would look out for her.

"I hope you can make it," said Izzy.

***

"Here's a computer simulated view of the meteor as it approaches the Earth," the TV blared. Kelly turned from her suitcase to get a look. There was nothing on the screen but a diagram of a blazing fireball against a black background.

"Oh, brother," she muttered. "What a lot of hype!"

"Sure wish you were coming to the motel to stay with me, Babe," Joe walked up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and planted a wet kiss on her cheek

"Ouch!" She put a hand up and touched the bruise that.still remained from where he had punched her.

"Oops, sorry." He let go of her and wandered casually away. She was always sore in one spot or another. Some mornings she would be so stiff that it was difficult for her to get out of bed. She never said much about it. She seemed to be accustomed to living with the pain. He had heard somewhere that women could handle pain better than men. That didn't surprise him at all. Sometimes they seemed to not feel anything. He had once confided to Kelly that he thought ninety percent of the women in the world were bitches.

He did regret burning her in the shower. Sometimes he wished he could control his temper. If only she didn't push him into hitting her! Things would be fine if she would just do what he expected her to. He was glad that she was in therapy. He hoped she would get her problem straightened out.

Kelly flung a pair of jeans into her suitcase. "Isabel has been trying to get me to come see her place for awhile now."

"You know, you shouldn't hang around her so much. She's a real psycho."

"She just dresses weird."

"Yeah, I'll say."

"Oh, Joe, really. If you'd just give her a chance."

"I'm not getting, near that freak! You know, everybody is probably wondering what you two see in each other. You are quite the odd couple."

"She's smart. I like her."

Joe leaned up against a wall, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his sagging jeans. "Babe, has it ever occurred to you that she might be in love with you?"

Kelly slapped the sweater she was folding, and looked at him in disgust. "What?"

"I think she's a dyke. Is she?"

"Oh, good grief, Joe!"

"Well?"

"That is so rude, on so many levels. Izzy is straight. And if she wasn't I would love her anyway."

"Love her in what way?" Joe leered.

A horn tooted outside.

"I gotta go." Kelly kissed him quickly, picked up her suitcase, and ran out the door.

Kelly stepped into the apartment and looked around. The walls, as she had imagined, were covered with blown up photographs, most of which were black and white. The huge room was nearly bare. There was a couch, a chair, a coffee table, and a couple of elegant, tall floor lamps.

"Wow!" Kelly said. "Real furniture!"

"What did you expect?" Isabel laughed.

A fluffy red cat strolled up to them, curving against Kelly's legs, its bushy tail high in the air. "Hi, Art," Isabel said, bending to scratch him under the chin. She turned to Kelly and said, "Art Is a Somali."

"A what?"

"A Somali. That's his breed."

"Oh. He's beautiful!"

"Yeah! He's an awful character, too." Isabel grabbed Kelly's suitcase and flung it on the couch. "Hey, you're not allergic, are you?"

"Not to worry," Kelly walked over to one of the photos on the wall. It was the face of an old woman, cracked and lined, with a dark scarf over her head and tufts of white hair protruding. "Who's this?"

Isabel walked over and touched the frame lovingly. "That's my Nana. My Dad's mom. She was a great beauty in her day.

"This," she said, moving to another photo, "Is my nephew, playing in a mud puddle. He looks like Tar Baby, doesn't he? My sister was SO pissed! 'Josh's gonna get sick and all you do is stand there taking pictures!" She laughed at the memory. "My sister is such a bitch, anyway. She has no appreciation for my talent!"

She pointed at another photo and said, "That was my mom before she died. She loved the smell of sheets after they hung out all afternoon. I always picture her this way, at the clothesline."

As she talked on, pointing to each photo with pride, and telling each story, Kelly realized she was looking at a very unique family album. Each photo was different from the others. Not a single one was posed; all seemed to be taken at the precise moment that best defined the character of that person.

They came to the last picture on the wall, of a cat poised on top of a television set, one front paw hanging down, his face pressed against the screen. Isabel said, "And this, of course, is Art, watching a game of golf. He tries to catch the ball when they putt. It's a riot!"

They laughed together. Then Kelly looked up at her friend and said quietly, "Izzy, these pictures! They're wonderful!"

"Yeah?"

"Seriously. They are terrific. You're an artist... Not just a journalist."

"Thanks! Glad you like 'em. Come on, I'll show you the darkroom. You wanna develop those pictures you took when you went hiking the other day?"

***

They lay side by side in the fold-out bed that night, talking. Art curled up on Kelly's stomach, purring contentedly.

"What time is your friend going to be here in the morning?" Kelly asked.

"Four thirty."

"Oh, my God!" They both burst into giggles. Lying in the warmth next to her lanky friend, Kelly felt like a schoolgirl. Completely happy, almost giddy, this was the most content she had felt in years. She didn't quite understand it.

She had a fleeting thought about what Joe had said before she left. What a pig he was! It was so typical of him to think that the attraction between them was physical. It probably sprang from simple jealousy. Why did everything that entered a man's mind have something to do with sex, anyway?

She thought about it, and realized that she had never known Izzy to have a boyfriend. Izzy seemed just fine without one. Kelly had always envied that about her. She had told Joe Izzy was straight, but in reality, she wasn't sure. What if Joe was right, and Izzy was gay?

Well, what if she was? Kelly didn't care. She wasn't going to ask, that was for sure. Delving into people's sexual preferences wasn't something that she had any desire to do. She felt sure that Izzy was not in love with her. Izzy had never shown the slightest inclination along those lines.

Joe had not been aware that she and Izzy would be sleeping in the same bed. Boy, would he have a heyday with that information! Kelly smiled at the thought.

She reached up and scratched the cat behind his ear. He stretched blissfully, his purring rumbling to a crescendo.

"I've gotta warn you, Izzy, I'm not a morning person. Hey, what is the deal with this cat? I think he likes me."

"Maybe he recognizes a kindred spirit," said Izzy.

"How's that?"

"Well, I think you and Art are a lot alike."

Kelly smothered a laugh and said, "Well, I admit I like my tuna now and then, but..."

"No. I'm serious. You see how he is now? Purring, happy kinda kneading his feet?" "Yeah."

"Well, most of the time, he's a benevolent little soul. He's quirky, too. He's got a great sense of humor. That's a lot like you."

"I guess," Kelly said, amused.

"But when I moved in here, we had mice. And he turned into a killing machine. I mean, I hardly knew him! He would stalk those mice day and night, and he showed no mercy! He would fling them up In the air and smack them around with his paws. I almost felt sorry for the mice. Usually, I just didn't watch!"

Isabel reached over and stroked the cat's silky head. "He looks like a cat, but he definitely has the soul of his ancestors. You've got a little lion sleeping on you right now."

She looked over at the clock. "Oh, man! We have to be up in four hours! We'd better try to get some rest."

Isabel switched off the lamp and rolled over. Within minutes her breathing had become deep and steady.

Kelly lay there thinking about what Isabel had said, remembering all the photos splashed around the room. She began to get a chill. Isabel had an eerie way of looking into the souls of people. Absently, she continued to pet the cat as she thought, "She must be wrong about me."

***

"EVERY MORNING, ALL MORNING LONG!" It seemed like moments later the radio was blaring in her ear. "LET'S ROCK AND ROLL!"

She heard Isabel's feet hit the floor with a solid thud as the squealing guitar solo filled the air.

Click! Izzy turned it off.

"Thank you," Kelly mumbled. She tried once to open her eyes, then gave up. It was warm, soft, and safe in Izzy's bed. She heard the shower running. Then, Izzy was shaking her.

"I thought you were gonna take a shower!" Kelly protested.

"I did!" Izzy said, with a laugh.

"Oh." Kelly sat up and rubbed her eyes. The room was dark. "What time is it?"

"Don't worry about that. Let's just say it's early. I'm gonna turn this light on, okay?"

Kelly hauled herself out from under the blankets. "How can you be so cheerful?"

As Izzy watched, she got up and wandered aimlessly around the room, bumping into furniture. "Where's my stuff? OUCH! Where's -- oh, yeah."

She rummaged through the suitcase and dragged out jeans and a sweater.

"Dress warm, Izzy. Bring a coat. It will be cold up there," she said.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind her. Outside, she could hear Izzy laughing.

The shower brought Kelly to her senses, and she began to get excited about the day ahead.