27. Amelie
27
AMELIE
“Ames.”
“No,” I mumble, reaching out to smack whoever is talking. I’m vaguely aware that it’s Henry, because it’s his voice and I’m touching his pretty face, but I’m partially convinced it’s a dream.
“Amelie, you’re groping my nose.”
I huff and open my eyes, then immediately squeeze them shut. Why is it so bright? Why does the sun hate me? A little dramatic, I’m aware, but I don’t care.
“We’re here,” Henry says. “Are you getting out, or am I going to leave you out here all alone?”
“The second one.” I blindly fish my sunglasses out of my purse and put them on, keeping my eyes closed until I have ample protection. The first thing I see when I look around is our cabin, then the snow that surrounds it. Everything is dusted with white. “What time is it?”
“Quarter ‘til eight.” He extends his hand and helps me out of the car, then goes to the trunk and pulls our suitcases out. Before I can even grab my purse, I hear a voice behind me.
“Pumpkin, you’re early!”
I turn around and laugh as soon as I see my dad. He’s bundled up in a parka, which sounds lovely right now. That would’ve been a better option than sweatpants, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. “We thought you’d be later,” he says.
“I did too,” I say, returning the tight hug he wraps me in. “Henry speeds on the interstate.”
“I do not,” Henry clarifies, closing the trunk of the car. He dusts the snow off his hands and holds one out to my dad, waiting on a shake.
Dad clasps their hands together with zero hesitation. “Been a while since I’ve seen ya, son.”
Henry looks a little intimidated. I’m sure he thinks I’ve cursed his name to the wind, or that I asked each member of my family to cast a separate spell on him or something, but that’s not true.
I said it was over and didn’t offer up room for questions because I didn’t have answers. My family knows just as much as I do.
“I’m glad to be back,” Henry says fondly.
Dad gives him a tight smile. “Melinda is inside. She’ll be just as welcoming, long as she’s had her coffee.”
“Ah.” Henry hums. “I forgot that all the Benoit women are hostile without caffeine.”
“I know that’s directed at me, and it’s a lie,” I say, though he’s telling the truth. “And anyways, let’s get these bags inside. I want to see Mom.”
“Marg is here, too.” Dad nods. “Got in last night.”
My breath hangs in my chest for just a second, but I force my lungs to start working semi-normally. “Okay. Great.”
He gives a bright, strangely oblivious smile before grabbing my suitcases. Henry takes his own, so all I have to do is carry my purse.
We stumble onto the porch, trying not to slip on the snow while simultaneously working to keep it off our clothes. I get ahead of Henry and Dad and open the front door, then kick my boots off on the front step. They set all the suitcases in the entryway, and when I look around the place, something tightens in my throat.
Everything is exactly the same. A football game is on TV, blankets are strewn across every couch, and the air smells like coffee and sugar. Mom must’ve already started baking, and I mentally remind myself to snoop around for cookies later.
“This place is amazing,” Henry says, sounding almost awestruck.
Only now do I truly register that he’s never been here. I knew it in logical terms, yes, but to understand feels weirder than it should. I think I subconsciously assume that, wherever I was, he was too. Because that was always the case.
“Yeah,” is all I come up with.
My bland reply goes unnoticed, because within seconds, I hear a squeal to my left. When I turn toward the noise, Mom is approaching me with her arms wide open. She’s wearing a bright pink sweater that matches perfectly with my attire. I practically catch her as she hugs me, letting loose the breath I’ve been holding since I stepped inside this house. “I’m glad you made it safely,” she says, squeezing me too tight. “The roads were slick! Did you notice?”
“I didn’t,” I admit, slipping away from her. I move closer to Henry and grab his arm, more than a little distracted by the feel of it. Disappointed, but not surprised. “He drove the whole time. I slept.”
The second Mom looks at him, her entire face softens. She envelops him in a hug, and he doesn’t seem shocked at all. The smile on his face actually looks genuine as he hugs her back. “We can’t believe Amelie brought you! It’s been so long since?—”
“Let’s not.” I cut her off with a smile. “We can save the uncomfortable topics for later, hm? I’m sure dinner will be a grand time.”
Mom rolls her eyes and grins. “Ames. Always one to set the mood.”
I laugh, but the sound dies once I hear shoes click on the hardwood.
Speaking of uncomfortable topics.
“Amelie?” I hear from above me.
I glance up to see Margot standing at the top of the stairs, her expression unreadable. I can’t tell if she’s pleased or horrified to see me. I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon enough, but not knowing kills me.
Margot looks exactly like me, only taller, thinner, and admittedly prettier. Her hair is cut shorter than mine, but it’s the same rich brown color. Our eyes are an identical cool shade of gray. The only difference between our faces is my crooked nose—I broke it when I was seven, and it’s been a little twisted ever since. Hers is perfectly straight.
“Hey, Margot,” I say awkwardly. My stomach ties itself in knots when I realize how stiff my voice sounds. “When did you get here?”
It’s a stupid question—Dad told me when she got here, but I don’t know what to lead with. Hi? You look great? I’m sorry I haven’t called you in four years?
“Last night.” Margot descends the stairs, and Henry suddenly puts a hand on my back. It’s meant to be reassuring, I think. A show of comfort.
I sink further into him, despite my efforts to not do that.
Margot seems to materialize in front of me, and I immediately wonder if I’m supposed to hug her. It would be the single most awkward hug in human existence, so I decide to spare us both and keep my arms at my sides. “You look great,” I tell her.
She gives a dry laugh. “I look exactly like you.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Her smile deepens, but there’s something sad in her eyes. I wonder if my expression mirrors hers, though it’s unlikely. We have the same face, almost exactly, but the way we carry ourselves and our emotions couldn’t be more different.
Margot was easy to read. Always. I could look at her and tell if something was wrong. If she failed a test at school or if she had a fight with her boyfriend. But she could never read me back. It frustrated her, and I was aware of that, but I never made an effort to share my tells. Maybe that was a mistake.
“Let’s get your things put away,” Mom says, clapping her hands together. “Margot, can you show Amelie to her room?”
I blink. “But I always stay in the same room.”
“Yes, but we put a new bedspread in there.”
Margot frowns. “That doesn’t?—”
“Margot,” Mom repeats. “Show Amelie to her room. Dad will show Henry to his.”
We don’t argue because we’re smart. So Marg grabs one of my suitcases, I grab the other, and we make our way up the stairs.
Our cabin is massive. The stairs go up three floors, and even though one is the attic, it’s still ridiculously spacious. Most of the living room walls are windows, but we’ve never had to worry about someone peeking inside. It’s like an unspoken thing—you don’t creep on us, and we won’t creep on you.
“Mom put us alone to talk,” Margot says when we reach my door. She opens it, and I almost laugh when I see the bed. There is a new bedspread, though it’s not much different from my old one. A blue quilt swapped for a purple duvet. “But I don’t want to, and I know you don’t want to.”
She’s right. I don’t want to.
“Yeah,” I say, shrugging. “So let’s not.”
“Fine.” Margot drops my suitcase onto the floor. “You’re back with Arlington?”
Guess we’re talking, then.
I nod. “Kinda crazy, I guess.”
“Very. I didn’t think you guys would make up.”
“Why do you say that?”
She sniffs. “You’re not very forgiving.”
“People change,” I say flatly.
Her eyebrows raise, and the laugh that escapes her is almost painful. “You would know, huh?”
Well! Okay.
“I’m done here,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Please. I don’t want?—”
“That’s fine.”
Before I get the chance to finish, she walks out of my room.