Chapter 10 Fight My Regret
I grunt in frustration as I pound the keyboard, trying to make this new architecture software work. It’s the third time it has frozen this morning. After uninstalling and installing it twice, I’m still having no luck.
Giving up and accepting defeat, I call our IT team to take over. I’m officially wiping my hands clean of this tech issue.
Two Dads Just Want To Draw And Build has been my life for the past six years. I interned here straight after school and all throughout uni, where I graduated with a Master’s in Architecture and Environments.
It was a no-brainer that I’d work here under my Dad and Uncle Mark.
When I lost Amity, I also lost my second dad.
At the beginning, things were tense with Uncle Mark, but for the sake of professionalism, we pushed through and have a mutual understanding that we won’t talk about Amity or what happened in the past. Since starting here full-time, I’ve seen a hell of a lot more of Uncle Mark, but we’ve managed to find a new normal. It’s like we’re getting to know each other all over again, which is comforting.
The sprawling office is chic, decked out with the latest designs, innovations and building materials. Dad makes sure the latest designs are showcased, regularly renovating bits and pieces for clients. In their latest renovation, the small team of architects were given offices that we could design ourselves.
While the entire building is sheer sophistication, it is also a millennial and Gen Z’s dream. There is a gaming room with a fully stocked bar, a pool table, putt putt course, video game set-up and of course, carnival food. It’s basically a big men’s shed, but they’ve also managed to cater for women too, with a relaxing spa station and lounge area where they can kick their feet up and indulge in a frappe or mocktail of their choosing. Of course, it’s also a parent’s dream, with a daycare on the bottom floor and flexible working hours.
After sorting through the IT issues, my brain is fried, and there is no point in continuing the current project I’m working on. Swaying my chair from side to side, I’m bubbling with frenetic energy. I don’t want to leave, but there’s no use wasting time if I’m not going to be productive. Contemplating my departure, my mood sullens further when I see the framed serviette of the rough drawing I did of mine and Amity’s future home, sketched all those years ago. I’m a glutton for punishment. I put it there to remind me of my hopes and dreams of becoming an architect, but it’s also a constant reminder to be better after what I did to her. To us.
Not wanting to stay here a moment more, I snatch my blazer and phone, realising Dad sent me a text almost an hour ago.
Dad: Mate, can you swing past mine tonight?
Need to chat.
It isn’t unusual that I swing past Dad’s or even spend the night, even though I have my own apartment. What is odd is the fact that he texted me that we needed to talk. A prick of awareness skits down my spine the longer I look at the ambiguous message. I rub the shiver creeping up my neck, hoping it’s just the day’s work tension that has me so highly strung.
After flicking back a text that I’ll be there soon, I lock my door and wave goodbye to whomever is in the open space, one of them being my ex-girlfriend, Billie. It’s unbelievable that she is temping here.
We broke up a year or so after graduation, when I discovered that she was the one who began the fat-shaming rumours about Amity. I walked in on her and her friends laughing about it—most likely out of jealousy, since they were watching Amity on E! Even though she apologised profusely, the damage was done. Her sweet facade was shattered forever. I thought I was falling for Billie, but the truth was that what we shared was nothing compared to my feelings for Amity. Nothing and no one ever would or could stack up.
Our past is complicated, a vine of thorns and roses.
Despite our breakup, we still remain in each other’s lives, still have mutual friends and somehow always orbit around each other. She apologised about her childish behaviour and I accepted, but it still didn’t fix us. For years, I’d thought she was sweet, but that sour side of her left a bad taste in my mouth. Unfortunately, when I’m lonely, I tend to make monumental fuck ups, many of those times being when I was stupid enough to fuck and fall into bed with her again. I blame it on my drunken and weakened state, but truthfully, it is to escape the loneliness. I need a warm body to get lost in. The last time we hooked up was a couple of weeks ago, when I saw Amity out with that NFL asshole, Jagger. She was with the cast of Euphoria at some club, and he was her guest. Seemed like he was everywhere she was. Blind envy led me to Billie’s bed.
If she could fuck someone else, then so could I.
As I press the ignition on in my car, my phone connects to Bluetooth and my Apple Music starts blaring randomly. My ears are assaulted with Panic! At The Disco’s ‘Lying Is The Most Fun You Can Have Without Taking Your Clothes Off’, and I’m irrationally mad. Swearing, I violently stab the next button on my steering wheel to change the song. My heart slows when Machine Gun Kelly starts playing.
Funny, I used to love Panic! At The Disco. It was one of Amity and I’s favourite bands. Now I can’t stand listening to them anymore, especially after she made a reel on her Tik Tok years ago, lip syncing to that song in her bra and undies. With the band. On stage.
As I make my way to Dad’s, I find myself nervously tapping on the steering wheel. I’m still feeling off. There should be no reason for me to feel uneasy. I have a good career ahead of me and made amends with most of the people I hurt in the past. Unfortunately for me, the few friends who sided with Amity never did forgive me, but I am at peace with that.
Turning into Dad’s driveway, I banish this ominous feeling, focusing on all the great things that are ahead.
‘Dad?’ I call, closing the front door behind me, removing my blazer and tossing it in the coat closet.
‘Here!’ he shouts.
I approach the kitchen, frowning when I see both Dad and Jas sitting at the bar. Jas has a giddy, suspicious look on her face, while Dad is more wary and watchful of me.
‘What have I done?’ I joke, trying to lighten his mood. I kiss Jas’ head before walking past her to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. No one says anything as I unscrew the cap, take a swig and sit down on one of the stools.
‘So you know how Mark’s off for a while?’ he starts, strangling the beer bottle in his grasp.
‘Hmm.’ Mark got pretty badly injured on site and has been in hospital having surgery. He’s home now, but this is nothing new. Not only do I work in the same building as him, but I also stopped by the hospital.
‘Well, he was just going to recuperate at home with no fuss.’
‘Okay…’ Get to the point already.
‘Well, he spoke to Amity the other day, and before he could even get a word in edgewise to reassure her that he was okay, she made arrangements to come home.’ I stare blankly at him. ‘Home,’ he elaborates, as if I didn’t hear him the first time. ‘It’s sort of her time off, or downtime or whatever, and she said instead of going to Paris, where Crys is, she’s, um, flying back. Here.’ He eyes me over the rim of his bottle.
I try to remain passive, but my hands are clenched tight enough around the plastic bottle that it crunches beneath my palm.
‘Huh.’ It does not come off as noncommittal.
‘She hasn’t been back…since…well, since she left, and I guess Uncle Mark being incapacitated for a while is enough reason. She also mentioned something about getting the design phases started on one of her investments. She bought that land a while back, or Mark bought it on her behalf, because she couldn’t be here in person.’
‘And what does this have to do with me?’ I interrupt. It has been overwhelmingly difficult to try and get over Amity. Having her back will plunder my chances of trying.
Dad gives me a long look. ‘She called me to help her with the designs, and wanted to make sure I was looking after Mark.’
My heart jumps at the thought of Dad hearing her voice. ‘I didn’t know you speak to her?’
He shrugs. ‘Of course I do. Always have. So does Jas,’ He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. ‘I just didn’t think it was any of your business anymore.’ Well, that’s just downright brutal. I drum my fingers on the table, my eyes downcast as I digest this information. Even my little sister has kept in contact all these years…and they both hid it from me. ‘I know you two haven’t really talked since your breakup, but I’m just letting you know that you’ll probably bump into her. I just wanted to give you some warning. She said it was fine when I told her the same.’
Of course she did.
I haven’t spoken to Amity since before graduation, and she never returned to the Gold Coast, not even for Christmas, so I haven’t laid eyes on her physically for years. Of course, I’ve seen and heard what she’s been up to. Apart from stalking the fuck out of her on socials, she is everywhere. The Gold Coast Bulletin even had a section dedicated to her—‘Spilling the tea with Amity’—and my friends, who used to pay her out for her weight, were suddenly obsessed with her.
‘Linc?’ Dad brings me back to our conversation after I’ve been too quiet for a few moments.
Rubbing my neck, I huff out a long breath. ‘Thanks for letting me know. It’s a big town, so maybe I won’t see her. But who knows, maybe we could even be friends again?’ I shrug, hoping my nonchalant response fools him.
The look on both his and Jas’ faces lets me know that hell has a better chance of freezing over.
‘You never know, mate.’ Dad pats my shoulder in solidarity.
Awkward tension engulfs the room, so I clear my throat. ‘I’m going to head home. Long day.’ I nod my head towards the front door in a jerking motion.
‘You sure you don’t want to watch an ep of Peaky Blinders?’ I shake my head, as if I’m looking left and right for traffic. ‘Okay. See you later.’ Dad smiles softly, waving me off.
Ever since it was over with Amity, there was a constant tightness. I was never alone, yet I felt lonely. I was always running, but never fast enough. I was always awake, but never really seeing.
When I get back home, I immediately boot up my laptop, the compulsion to check Amity’s Tik Tok to see what she’s up to winning. I have a whole favourites folder dedicated to her, which is absolutely pathetic but necessary for my wellbeing. The last time I screwed Billie was just before she caught me looking at my secret folder after we were done.
‘This is why you won’t give us a second chance,’ Billie had accused, tears welling in her eyes. ‘It’s always been her. It will always be her. You will never love anyone as long as she’s alive.’
I didn’t deny it. ‘She’s a part of my heart.’
After that, we didn’t hook up again, and I don’t blame her.
I fully lean into my obsession with Amity from years ago. Like a crack addict, shaking for my next fix, I check for any new pictures, videos, threads, toks, interviews and the like.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve streamed her interviews, falling asleep to her sweet laugh, or how obsessed I became with her lingerie choices when she conducted a new interview. Who knew scraps of lace could be transformed into artwork on her body? I find myself scrutenising every curve and inch of her. I haven’t touched her in over seven years, but I’m sure she is as soft as ever, even if she has slimmed down significantly. Her shape or size of body had never mattered to me, as long as she’s healthy. From the looks of it, she seems to be in tip-top shape.
My leg bounces up and down as I wait for Google to load.
A Youtube video was uploaded seventy-two minutes ago. Amity takes a peak behind the curtain with Peaky Blinders cast. Fucking hell. Peaky-bloody-Blinders. What I wouldn’t give to chat with Cillian Murphy. I lean into the screen to absorb every detail of the fifteen-minute video. She’s in a white itty bitty bikini with green clovers on her nipples. She tries on Cillian’s working class Englishman wardrobe, which includes his hat and cigar, and fuck me if I don’t have a bit of a hard-on seeing it. She then moves to the bedroom on set, where she’s surrounded by the cast, tossing questions at each one of them. Tom fucking Hardy makes a suggestion to go down to a pub, and the next shot is of Amity pouring herself a Guinness and drinking it while standing on top of the bar. I avidly watch the locals go crazy for her. Turning her segment back around on her, one of the cast members throws a question at Amity. Up until now, she’s been very reserved about her former life.
‘Where are you from, Amity?’ they shout off-camera, so I don’t see who it is.
‘I’m from the Gold Coast. It’s just me and my dad, who is the best father in the world, and I can’t wait to see him in a few days! Shout out to my amazing mum also, who’s in Paris at the moment, being a mega-famous make-up artist! If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am today! She got me backstage at a Victoria’s Secret show, and the rest is history,’ she giggles, taking a swig of her beer.
She shakes her head at the bitter taste. ‘Guess I should also thank every asshole back at home. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing with the cast of Peaky freaking Blinders, living my best life! Slainte!’ she hollers, before winking at the camera in a big ‘fuck you’ way to me, Billie and our associated friends.
The crowd goes wild for her. As if they wouldn’t.
My heart hammers in my chest at her confession, hitting me with a new avalanche of guilt over how she was treated.
As the video ends, I press replay, continuing to torture myself.