I had Nick Cave on my headset, which fit my mood perfectly as I swung slowly back and forth on the crude wood swing hanging down from the massive oak in Michelle's front yard. It was strange how I called her mom, just like she had asked, but inside my head she was still Michelle. Maybe that's because I knew inside her head, I was still another woman's daughter.

A late summer breeze tickled my bare legs as I flung my feet forward to keep the motion going. The air still smelled like summer, but I could feel the edges of fall lacing the feathery light wind. I couldn't remember how many times I'd sat on the swing pumping my legs hard in an effort to rocket the swing up to the sky. So many times I wanted the inertia just to take me straight into the clouds and away from the house and yard and town forever. Today was one of those days, but I couldn't even work up the energy to pump my legs.

Sometimes everything compounded inside of me, and it stayed there like a brick with rough, sharp edges. And then it took a lot of effort to smooth down the corners, corners that rubbed me from the inside, scratching at my soul, reminding me of why the brick was there in the first place.

I coasted forward, and two hands grabbed the ropes to stop me. I startled, yanked out my ear buds and spun around.

Joshua was wearing that movie star smile and holding up a packet of pink Pop Rocks. His long brown hair was hanging down around his shoulders in what I liked to tease him as his rowdy punk look. His extra long locks were always a source of contention between him and Emily. Even though I called her Emily, she was always my sister in my head.

"Hey, Rebel, Rebel, got you something." He wiggled the black and pink packet of candy.

"Oh my gosh, I haven't had those in sooo long." The swing flowed forward as I grabbed for the Pop Rocks, but he teasingly held them just out of reach.

"Ah, what's the magic word?"

I gave him a crooked smile. "Butthead?"

"That works." He tossed the pack of candy onto my lap. "You know I was thinking of getting that tattooed right here on my inner forearm." For the last few years, Joshua had gotten into working out with weights. Now every inch of him was carved, including his forearms. Sometimes I wanted to kick Emily for not appreciating just how amazing he was. She was always busy trying to fix him when there just wasn't a damn thing to fix.

"Tattoo what?'

"Butthead," he said matter of factly as if it was already a done deal and he just needed to get to the tattoo shop.

I held the ropes as I leaned back with a laugh. It sent me forward, and he caught my bare feet in his hands, holding me in suspended animation. His hands wrapped around my ankles and his palms warmed the cool night air from my skin. Nick Cave's deep, melodic tone whispered through the ear buds in my lap, the only sound, aside from the vibrating leaves in the overhead branches. The silence between us, as he held my ankles, was strong and comforting, as strong and comforting as our friendship. Slowly, he peeled his hands away from my ankles and I swung back.

"I like the idea." I ripped open the Pop Rocks. "I might get Rebel, Rebel tattooed somewhere too." I tossed my head back, and the fizzy candy coated my tongue.

I was enjoying the nostalgia of crinkling my nose over a mouthful of sour, bubbling candy and hadn't noticed the expression on his face. The smile had faded and he was wearing that same lost, almost pained, expression I caught more and more often, especially when he didn't know I was watching him. There was so much going on in his life, his change in plans from a rock and roll dream future to a boring job. His dad sick with liver disease. And then there was his relationship with Emily. They seemed to trip through more rough patches than smooth lately. I worried that they might break up and then he'd be out of my life forever. I wasn't sure I could bear that.

I offered him some Pop Rocks.

"No thanks." He walked around behind me and gave me a light push. "You know that guy is just an asshole anyhow."

I twisted around to look at him, and it sent the swing sideways. "Who?" My body stiffened as I waited for his response.

"Gregory," he said, looking confused at my reaction.

"Oh, yeah, Gregory." I released the breath I'd been holding.

"Sorry to hear about the breakup."

I pushed off the ground for more momentum. "No you aren't."

He laughed. "You're right. I'm not. He wasn't right for you."

"You sure have the bar set high for me. I guess I should have at least as high a bar as Emily. After all, she has the gold standard."

He laughed again, only this time it sounded far off and lonely. "Yeah, I don't think that's true. And I'm pretty sure Em would agree."

"She can be kind of clueless." I sucked on some more candy. For now, some of the rough, sharp edges of the brick had been smoothed and the pain lifted. Joshua had done that.

He pushed me forward. I watched my pale feet stand out against the blue night sky. "Josh, do you have any happy triggers?"

"Happy triggers?"

"Yeah, you know, little things that give you this sudden lift, a rush of happiness. Even when you're feeling down."

"Huh, never gave it much thought. But I can say that when I'm playing guitar all the shit in the world disappears. In fact, just seeing my guitar gives me a rush. And a double cheeseburger, that can be a rush too."

"See, that's what I'm talking about. For me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on a bed of potato chips makes me giddy as if the world and humankind can make it through the dark times as long as there are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and potato chips."

Joshua circled around to stand next to me as I coasted forward and back on the swing, slowing my momentum with an occasional toe tap on the ground.

He reached up and took hold of one side of the rope, and I twisted around and bounced back. "PB and J. You, my friend, do not have high standards when it comes to happy triggers."

"I guess not. I think it's not so much the sandwich and chips as that they remind me of a time when it was just my dad and me. He had to work a lot, and I was just a little kid who thought cereal with marshmallow shapes was a gourmet meal. We'd sit at our little table with the crayon marks I'd made from coloring my homework sheets and we'd laugh and tell each other about our day over peanut butter, jelly and potato chips."

I lifted my face to his. Joshua's smile was faint, but I caught that elusive twinkle in his eyes that let me know whatever I'd said had pleased him. It was those looks that assured me I had a true friend in Joshua. He never judged me. Most of all, I could trust him. I felt safe with him, and I couldn't say that about everyone.

That strong, comforting silence fell over us again. I knew he was just as aware of it as I was, but we never mentioned it. Only sometimes, it became too strong, and I had to shake it off before something happened that neither of us could handle.

I moved my hands down to just hold onto the ropes without moving the swing. "And houses with window boxes," I continued. "Of course the boxes have to be overflowing with flowers, otherwise they are just boxes. Like on a Swiss chalet house. Yep. Houses with flowering window boxes are happy triggers too. When I pass a house with flower boxes, I always wonder what it would be like to live inside. I always imagine a cozy fire and fresh baked bread on the kitchen table and a big orange cat curled up in a basket of yarn."

Josh's faint smile widened to a grin. He ruffled my hair. "Don't you dare ever change, Rebel. I've got to go. See you later."

"Thanks for the Pop Rocks," I called, and he waved back at me without turning around.

I watched him climb into his car.

"And you, Josh. The best happy trigger of all."