Amy
London
Tuesday had been a long, long day. She’d gone to the gym in the morning, her usual one near work, and had pushed herself harder than usual, as if exercise could burn off the mess that she'd found herself in.
It hadn’t really worked.
James had come to the flat at lunchtime, and they’d spent most of the afternoon sat at the dining table working out the logistics of what they were calling their temporary separation, though both knew it was permanent.
The biggest problem was the flat and what to do about that, but then also there were bills and joint accounts and whose name was on what.
To his immense credit, James was scrupulously fair about it all…
no attempts to argue for a larger share of anything, no claims of compensation for hurt feelings, but then Amy wondered to herself whether that was simply what goes around comes around.
She’d taken him back after all, eventually, after his own infidelity, so he could hardly claim the moral high ground now that her infidelities with Sarah and Luisa had come to light.
At one point, when they agreed that James would live in the flat while Amy was in LA and Amy would see if the room in Naomi’s houseshare was going to be available for her when she got back, they both cried.
Something about the reality of that, so tangible, not abstract like their other arrangements, hit them both hard.
Their life together, their shared routine and in-jokes and everything that came with it, was over and, despite their ups and downs, it had been good.
He’d left with a suitcase to go and stay at one of his rugby mate’s place, and she’d hugged him at the door, and then he’d walked to the lift and, once the door closed, she leaned against it and cried properly, the emotion and the complexity of the situation she’d created for herself overwhelming her.
What the hell am I doing? she thought. And what the hell have I done?
As it turned to late afternoon Luisa had messaged her, and they’d swapped a series of messages about their plans for LA over the next few weeks.
Amy was really excited to see her, and she got the same vibe from Luisa in return, but Amy was wise enough to know that the next few weeks could be make or break on that front…
she’d had, arguably, nothing more than a passionate, no strings fling with Luisa on her last trip to LA, and time would tell whether that excitement and chemistry could be sustained over a longer, more intense period in each other’s company.
Luisa was five thousand miles away though, and it was the evening that had saved Amy. Lara and Naomi had come over, apparently ‘just in the area’ which was deeply unlikely, particularly as they were carrying a Thai takeaway for three and a couple of bottles of wine.
They’d eaten and then sat on the sofa drinking the wine, talking.
Amy downloaded everything to them… everything.
She talked about the terror at how completely she’d detonated her life, the guilt about James, the anger she felt towards Sarah and herself, the confusion about Luisa and, indeed, what she really felt for Sarah, not to mention the overwhelming feeling of what’s next having come out, the old Amy that everyone thought they knew thrown to one side.
They’d both listened, Lara even making her laugh a couple of times, while Naomi had said simply, “You’re going to be ok, you know. It doesn’t feel like it, but you are.” Amy had nearly cried again at that point because she desperately wanted to believe it but wasn’t sure if she could.
Naomi and Lara had left at eleven, unlike her they had work in the morning after all, and after a hug from both and a few minutes tidying up she’d got into bed and lay there in the dark, alone, and she’d hated it.
She hated the silence and the space. She hated not having someone else next to her.
She’d never struggled with being alone, not when she was single at university or living in a house share before her and James had moved in together a few years back.
But this was different because she hadn’t chosen this…
or at least, this was the consequence of a series of other decisions rather than a decision in itself.
She lay there thinking, funnily enough, not about Sarah, not about Luisa, not about James.
She thought, instead, about Saturday night, drunk with Naomi and Lara and their other friends, the woman, Keira, whose number Lara had got for her and then Sophia, the woman whose number she hadn’t got but who Amy had done some very un-Amy things to in a nightclub toilet.
It had felt like a brave new world. It was a brave new world.
But new things can be both exciting and terrifying, and she wasn’t sure which it was.
***
So when Amy was woken by a text hitting her phone at eight that Wednesday morning she was a whole confusion of emotions, all vying for supremacy.
She reached for the phone and saw it was from Sarah:
Can we talk today? x
Amy stared at the message, thinking hard.
She flew to LA tomorrow morning, and she’d been planning to spend the Wednesday getting herself squared away and packed, but…
this was important. The fact that Sarah had waited until Wednesday was, she thought, a positive sign.
It meant that she wasn’t trying to just steamroll her way through to what she wanted, at least.
Amy tapped out a reply, deleted it five times, then went for simple:
I’m packing this afternoon. You can come over at four if you’d like? x
She debated long and hard in her head whether to add the kiss, but went with it in the end because, well, underneath all of it she liked Sarah a lot… despite how Monday night had ended and the home truths that she’d laid out.
***
The bulk of the morning was taken up by getting her hair cut and a manicure done, a bit of very necessary self care.
After lunch Amy set to the task of packing, and there was a lot to pack.
Nearly three weeks in LA entailed rather a lot of clothes…
work clothes, casual clothes, gym clothes.
Something nice to wear if her and Luisa went out somewhere expensive.
Extra layers for anywhere with overzealous air conditioning.
Amy found herself stood in front of her wardrobe for long stretches of time, holding up items and putting them back again, fighting the urge to pack so much that she’d need two suitcases.
As she packed, though, her mind was on Sarah.
The message that morning had been so brief it really gave nothing away…
the brevity of it either suggested that Sarah had worked out exactly what she wanted to say and didn’t need any preamble, or that she had no idea and was getting in touch in desperation before Amy disappeared for three weeks. Amy didn’t have a clue which it was.
Four was perfect timing… it gave Amy time to break the back of the packing first, but it also created a natural time limit if the conversation wasn’t going well. Sorry, my flight’s early and I’ve still got lots to do. It made it bounded, if Amy wanted it to be.
She was just comparing two dresses, one black and tight fitting, one red and a little looser but more elegant, when the buzzer went. Five to four. Sarah was early, which immediately told Amy how seriously she was taking this as while Sarah was never late, she was also rarely early.
Amy pressed the intercom. "Come up."
A couple of minutes later the doorbell rang.
Amy let her in and, dammit, Sarah looked really, really good.
She must have come from the office or a client meeting, wearing a dark grey and expensively tailored skirt suit, her hair up, high heels.
She was carrying a bottle of wine and she smiled as she handed it to Amy.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d need it, but better safe than sorry. ”
“Thank you.” Amy smiled back and took it, but didn’t offer Sarah a welcome hug or kiss… she’d meant it when she’d said it was over for now, and she was not going to undo all of that by encouraging even the slightest bit of contact. “Sorry about the mess, I’m not the world’s best packer. Tea?”
“Love one.”
The two women went through to the open plan living room and kitchen, and Amy filled the kettle and put it on.
They made awkward small talk while they waited for the tea to be ready, both keeping their distance.
Last time they’d been in that kitchen it had ended up as…
well, as James walking in on them. Amy was acutely aware of that and she could tell that Sarah was too.
When their teas were ready, they sat down, Amy on the armchair, Sarah the sofa.
Close enough to talk, but nowhere near close enough to lead to something more.
Sarah slipped her shoes off and started to fold her legs under her before she hesitated, something uncharacteristically Sarah.
“Do you mind me getting comfy?” she asked.
“Not at all.” Amy had her legs crossed in her seat, her mug in two hands, and looked at Sarah expectantly. “So… you wanted to talk?”
Sarah nodded slowly. “I do. I…” Sarah hesitated again, and Amy could see the inner turmoil. “It couldn’t wait for when you get back. Not after what you said on Monday. We can’t leave it like that for three weeks.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry… some of that needed to be said, but some of it was too much. I didn’t mean to…”
“Stop. There’s no need to apologise. What you said hurt, but it was right.
And the thing is I knew it was right, and I knew that I’ve been fooling myself.
You held up a mirror to me and I wasn’t a fan of what I saw.
” She paused to take a sip of her tea and Amy waited for her to continue, giving her time.
A smile played across her lips. “I’d like to tell you a story. ”
Amy smiled back. “Does it end with a question?”