Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Amy
If it wasn’t for Katie, I doubt I’d have a roof over my head.
Yet again, another invoice blinks on my screen. This time it’s two spin bikes and a rowing machine out of action.
My elbows press into the desk, forehead resting against clammy palms as I stare at the spreadsheet.
Our monthly projected profit is zero. To be honest, we’re barely breaking even.
Every disaster pushes us toward the red; it’s within touching distance.
Last month, I struggled to pay Trey’s wages, and I’m not even paying Katie rent.
It can’t go on like this.
I can’t go on like this.
When Terry’s and I finally sold our apartment earlier in the year, I thought that we’d be sorted. Turns out, there was minimal equity in our home and a whole load of joint debt to pay off with the remaining profit. We walked away with a few thousand each, and mine has been swallowed by this place.
The loan Ben gave me to start, sits on the balance sheet untouched in months. He’s being nice about it, telling me not to worry, but it’s bloody embarrassing. I promised I would make Bex proud. Now, I can’t even keep the lights on. The shame sits under my skin like a bruise that won’t fade.
My office door swings open, and thoughts of my sister recede.
“Hey, Boss,” Trey says in his usual jovial manner, but it falters the second he sees me. “I’m just knocking off for the day.” He plonks himself down on the seat opposite me. “Anything I can help you with?”
I shake my head. “No, but I do need to speak to you.”
“Okay, I’m here now.” He leans forward, waiting.
“Trey,” I stammer, and my eyes fill with tears. “I think you would do best to look for new employment.”
He stands and walks around my desk, then crouches down beside me. I look away, focused on the floor. “How bad is it?”
“I probably have enough funds to cover another month, then it’s curtains.
” My windpipe tightens around a truth I don’t want to admit.
“I can’t keep running at a loss. I don’t even make enough to cover the rent now.
Memberships are down―people have voted with their feet. Bex’s New You is a disaster.”
I look to my friend; he’s been incredible, but even with his knowledge, we couldn’t save our gym. “Will you be able to find work?”
“Don’t you worry about me,” he says, trying to offer some support. “You’re sure there’s nothing we can do together to fix this?”
“No. I’m not even sure I want to. Everything has changed unrecognizably since we opened.
My marriage has failed. I’ve lost my home.
My heart has gone from it all. With new gyms opening all over the city, and them having so much more to spend than us, I’m afraid doing more would be throwing good money after bad.
It all looked so promising in the beginning.
” I sniff, trying to control my emotions. “But I need a fresh start.”
He pulls me up and into a hug. “Hey. You’re not failing. You built something. That’s more than most people do.”
I press my face into his shoulder. The scent of disinfectant and sweat clings to his hoodie. I let out a shaky laugh, but it becomes a single sob.
“I’m here for you,” he whispers. “You’re my friend before everything else, and I’m here for you.”
His words break a dam. My shoulders tremble against him, and my body recalls the feeling of complete collapse.
This is my rock bottom. My life has no direction. My sister is gone. I’ve failed as a woman, and now I’m losing my business, my dream. I’m not sure where I’m going to go from here.
***
Katie moved to the US. Not just for a visit, for good. She's found a new love and a clean slate. I’m chasing unpaid bills. Without her shrieks of laughter, the apartment is quiet and feels hollow. It’s just me and the two little dogs padding around like shadows.
Every night feels longer than the last. I leave the TV on for noise, but it only reminds me how alone I am. That I’m the only one who can turn it off.
I spend my days at the gym, wrapping up what’s left of my career. The new owners take over next month. Ben’s helped me negotiate enough to pay him back, but it’s a close thing. I should feel relief. I don’t. All that’s left is regret.
Rain lashes against the windows on a November afternoon, and the dogs are curled tight against my legs on the window seat. People rush around outside in a sea of multicolored umbrellas. When my phone rings, I jump.
“Hello,” the familiar voice says, and something inside shatters. It’s been months of silence. “Amz? Are you there?”
He sounds the same as he always does, and my heart beats a little faster. “Amz,” he says again, “it’s me.”
“Terry,” I whisper. Hell, I miss him. Life is hard on your own. “Hi. It’s good to hear from you.”
“Hi, I wanted to call you myself,” he says, softly. “I have some news. I didn’t want you finding out from anyone else.”
I already know what’s coming before the words leave his mouth. I’ve been waiting for this announcement.
“I have a son, Amz. He was born yesterday.” Each word, spoken slowly, lands with the force of a physical blow. My world tilts. It’s happened.
“Congratulations,” I manage. My heart, which is barely held together, disintegrates. “Is he all right? And his mum?”
“He’s perfect,” he says, silent pride lacing his tone. “And Abigail’s fine. Just tired.”
Abigail. Her name stings. He keeps talking, something about the gym. About Ben filling him in, but the words merge into a low whine. I stare out at the rain droplets on the glass, wanting to be anywhere but here.
“I’m so sorry it didn’t work out,” he says.
I don’t know if he means the gym or our marriage. Maybe, both. I don’t ask. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Me too.”
Both of us hang on the line, silent for a few minutes. The sound of a baby’s cry cuts through the speaker. It splits me wide open. A sound that will never grace my home.
He mutters something about having to go, then, “Look after yourself, Amz.”
And the line goes dead.
For a long moment, I sit there, phone still at my ear with the rain and baby’s cry echoing in my head.
He got it.
He got his dream.
A family.
And here I am, still here, still stuck, living with ghosts.