I'd never had to deal with a boyfriend's ex-girlfriend before Carly. My first thought when I saw her at the campus Starbucks, when she was just another extra in the movie of my life instead of the secondary role of my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, was that I wanted her lipstick (matte red). My second was that she needed to try my tea tree oil (such a pretty girl, such a bad spaghetti splotch of acne). My third thought was "Isn't that the girl in Rob's picture?"(yes).

The girl in Rob's picture. Who was the girl in Rob's picture? I made a mental note to ask him as Carly, now armed with a large green tea, marched away. But somewhere in the office of my mind, the mental note was thrown away, and I only remembered the next time I was looking at the picture, in Rob's on-campus apartment, when Rob was making breakfast and I was feeding the fish. Domestic bliss.

"Who's that girl?" I said as I pointed to the redhead nestled against Rob's chest in the picture.

He looked up, looked at the picture, and squinted. "Oh", he said.

"That's Carly", he said.

He said. And I accepted what he said, innocently, like I trusted my boyfriend, which I did. He had never given me a reason to not trust him.

But later on, I was at the same campus Starbucks where I had first seen Carly, with a study group of friends going over obscure French philosophers when I remembered that moment and asked one of Rob's best female friends, Theresa, "Who's Carly?".

She looked down, up, everywhere but me. "Carly who?"

I wondered why she being so sketchy. "You know, that girl in Rob's picture".

She never answered and nobody ever did until Rob's funeral. That day was a somber one. I had only met Rob's parents once, at an awkward but nice Olive Garden lunch. Although I called Rob my boyfriend, our lack of eye contact during key moments sometimes made me wonder what he called me. I found out that day.

Rob's parents had spread out dried fruits and bottled waters on a table in the back of their house and had invited a few of us they knew back after the funeral. When I came to the door, feeling awkward in my borrowed black flats and too short black shirt, Rob's mom answered, her face irritated by tears, and said how glad she was to have one of Rob's closest friends with her at that time. As she gave me a hug in the entry hall, the doorbell rang behind me. Rob's mom let go of me, opened the door, and laughed.

"Oh, Carly, I'm so happy Rob's girlfriend could come over at a time like this!"