23. Bestest friend
CHAPTER 23
Bestest friend
I pace in front of the Greene family house. I lied. I couldn’t wait for Amelia’s calls or texts. Christmas without her was tough. The New Year was worse. Hopefully Mace will never remember I failed to make those days memorable for him. I’ll have to make it up to him later.
A hiccup draws my attention to Mace in the baby carrier slung to my chest. Even his hiccups sound cute. Still asleep, he suckles the air. I brush the tip of his nose with my index finger. I might have brought him as a peace offering. Amelia can’t be upset if she sees her godson.
That thought lends me the courage to knock for the first time. I’ve been here for ten minutes, but when the door opens, I plaster a fake smile and act like I just arrived. “Hey, Ashley Greene.”
Ashley forces out a laugh. “Hey, Cathie. You’re not supposed to be here now.” Her face is tired, and she has aged since the last time I saw her. She sizes me up. “You look… weird.”
“It’s the makeup,” I exclaim. It’s not only the makeup. It’s my entire appearance. I’m also not used to it. “Is Amelia home?” When she doesn’t reply, I mumble, “I couldn’t wait anymore.”
It might have only been four days since that call, but I haven’t seen her since October, when she left. I miss my best friend. Ashley squeezes my arm, and her smile turns more genuine.
“It’s okay. She needs you even if she won’t admit it,” she murmurs. For a brief second, her weaknesses and fears dance across her face, but she tucks them behind her smile. Stepping back into the house, she opens the door wider for us to come in. “She’s in her room. Go on.”
The heat from the living room fireplace warms me as soon as I enter. I race up the stairs as fast as I can, hesitating in front of Amelia’s room. The quiet sobs from inside push me to open the door. We haven’t spoken since that call. I called before leaving YC, but she didn’t pick up. What do you say to someone about to die? No idea, but I will give her my presence. This life sucks. It gives, then it takes. It gave me Mace, and now it wants to take Amelia.
“Amelia?” I call out, but my voice is a little lower than a whisper.
The curtains are closed, and the lights switched off. I step in. The bed is empty. Another sob draws my attention to the figure seated at the foot of the bed. I rush over and sit beside her.
“Hey,” Amelia says when she notices me. Her lips turn up in a smile. “Hey, Macey.”
“He’s asleep,” I say. But I edge towards her so she can touch him. She tugs his hoodie down and runs her fingers through his curls. “He crawled.”
I place him on the bed and bring out my phone to show her the videos and pictures. Her hand trembles as she accepts the phone. We don’t talk about her eyes that are red and swollen from crying, or her baldness. I bridge the tiny gap between us, and her head lowers to my shoulder. My arm slides around her tiny waist. We laugh, but the contact strengthens me.
“Are you upset that I’m here?” I whisper.
“Truth?”
“Truth,” I reply.
“I was hoping you would show up before Saturday,” Amelia confesses. Today is Saturday. I’m right on time. She lifts her head, but her smile vanishes when she takes another look at me. She squints. I try to shake off her stare, but she curls her fingers around the synthetic hair flowing from my baseball cap. “You look… different. What is this, Cathie? Is this a wig?”
She tugs on the hair, and the cap slides off my scalp. It’s a cap with hair extensions sewn into the hem to give the impression of real hair. It’s suitable for a bad hair day or bald days. Shock spreads over my best friend’s face. She uses both hands to cover her mouth, and I fear I made a huge mistake by shaving off my hair.
“Cathie,” she gasps out.
“Ta-da,” I say. “Surprise.”
Amelia’s lip trembles. Tears roll down her cheeks, and I bite the inside of my lip. I wanted to make her happy, to let her know it’s just hair. Who needs hair? We will be bald together.
“Sorry.” Her silence feels like fingers pressing into my throat. I ramble. “I tried to cut it really nice so I can dye it blonde later. I found this nice saloon that makes wigs. Since it’s almost the same length as yours, we will make a wig. You can wear it until your hair grows out.”
“Cathie,” she breathes.
We will get through this together. I hug her from the side. “You will be okay, Amelia.”
Amelia’s fingers run over my scalp. It has been so long since I felt this much air on my scalp. It’s different. It’s weird. It’s for Amelia. She kneels and kisses my scalp. I dry my cheeks.
“You like it?” I ask.
Another kiss lands on my scalp. “You look like a ghost.”
But there’s more hope in her voice than when I entered. My arms loop around her waist. Seconds later, she pulls away, and I wipe the brow gel in the spot of my real brows. I shaved them too. Tears roll down the corners of her eyes as she shakes her head. Now, we look similar.
“We can look like ghosts together,” I say.
Amelia sighs. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“I needed to. We are in this together.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” she says.
She has turned me into a crybaby. It’s fair. I fan my face with one hand. “That’s okay.”
Amelia says nothing for a while, but her happiness radiates off her and creeps into me. I place my hand in the space between us, and her fingers slip into mine. “I wish I didn’t have to die.”
I want to refute that statement, but this is not about me. Amelia needs to vent, and I’m here to make her feel better. “Do you think I’m a good person?” she asks. The answer is an easy yes. She’s incredible. “No, I don’t think I’m a good person. If I was, I wouldn’t be so unlucky.”
“No. I don’t think it’s because of that,” I reply. I release my grip on her hand to wiggle my fingers. “I think it’s because God sucks. When you get to heaven, you have to kick his arse.”
Amelia laughs. “You cannot treat me like the others do, okay?” she says, her voice rife with desperation. It’s a simple request. “They act like I’m so sick, and I know I am, but it will be nice to be treated normally. Mum’s worse. You must treat me like I’m still your best friend.”
“Of course, you’ll always be my best friend.”
I notice her struggling to stand and help her up. It will be tough for us to treat her normally when we are reminded of the little things she can no longer do on her own. But I’ll try. We make it to the bed. Mace doesn’t stir as we climb in, leaving him in our middle. Her walls hold memories in the form of portraits. I don’t know if I’ll ever enter here in her absence.
“Sometimes, I’ve thought about ending it myself. But that would be selfish,” she whispers.
Tears cling to my lashes. I hate what’s happening with my best friend, but I’ll hate it even more if she decides to leave that way. Then again, this is not about me. She takes Mace’s hands. My head burrows into the pillow we are sharing, and I trace a love shape on her scalp.
“Do you want to take a picture?” she asks.
I laugh. “Yeah.”
We take different pictures. Her smile never fades and my lips eventually loosen up.
“Where’s Jason?” I ask. “Does he know?”
“Yeah. I told him not to tell you.” My frown doesn’t last a second. She sits up without my help, and I mimic her position. “You would have panicked, Cathie. You know how you are about these things.” As anyone in their right mind would be. Anyone who loves their friend will be upset. She puts out her hand, and I interlock our fingers. “I don’t want you to be sad.”
But I’m already sad. I’ll always be sad. “It’s okay, Amelia. I understand. It’s not about me.” I turn my body towards her and cross my legs. “Is Jason like your boyfriend now?”
“It would be unfair to him,” she says, her eyes on my son. “I won’t be here for long.”
The bitterness laced in her reply doesn’t escape me. I would be bitter if it were me. I wouldn’t laugh. I’ll lock myself up and mourn my life or the upcoming demise of it. I’ll be mad at everyone—living and healthy beings.
“I know he loves me back, but it would be evil of me. Why put him through that?”
“Why don’t you let him decide that?” I say.
Amelia’s tear-filled eyes connect with mine. I wipe the tears on her cheek with the back of my hand. “He’s going to say yes. He’s an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” I correct.
Love is stupid. Love is wicked. It heals as much as it hurts. And it feels so good with the right person. It’s like chips in ice-cream. Until it’s not.
“My idiot. Yes.”
“I think you should stop worrying so much about it. Make more memories with Jason.”
She nods along. “Yeah? It sucks, though.”
That I can agree with. My chest hurts. I push past the lump in my throat and take her hands. I came here to make her feel better, not to cry. I can do it. “Very. Greatly. A lot,” I murmur.
We laugh. It almost feels normal again.
“A whole fucking lot,” Amelia adds.
Silence falls over us. Except for Mace’s soft inhale and exhale, the place is calm. Amelia draws random shapes on the pillow. When she sighs a second time, I place a hand over hers.
“If I agree to be his girlfriend,” Amelia says without meeting my gaze. I haven’t heard her request, but the answer is yes. “Do you promise to call Mr Dissick and send those emails?”
“I already tried. The email did not deliver. I think he may have disabled his email address.”
“Did you call him?”
“His number never connects.”
“It might be a network issue,” Amelia says to reassure me. Knowing how I reacted to his presence at the pub, I doubt that was caused by the network. “Should we try with mine?”
“Amelia…” I start. She points at her phone on the bedside drawer, and I have no choice but to retrieve it. I know his number offhand, so I type in the digits. “I saw him, and I panicked.”
“You saw him? Where?”
“The pub,” I reply. I wring my fingers as she stares in silence. She’s taking it well. “Jason didn’t get to perform because of me. Calum came out of nowhere, and he hugged me. He…”
My eyes shut. I exhale slowly to release the anger. I’ve been lying to myself. Storing snippets of him over the months. I’m pissed. I’m furious at that man. I want him to always be in pain.
“Do you still want to try him on my phone?” Because it’s almost impossible to say no to her, I nod. We call him first, but the results are the same. The email is no different. “He’s a fool.”
True.
“Will you help me plan a birthday party for Jason?” she whispers. “It’s next week.”
Her wish is my command. “I’m at your service, Amelia Greene.”
She reaches for my cheek and grins. “You are the bestest friend in the world, Cathie.”
“There’s nothing like bestest friend.”
“There is. And it’s you, Cathie.”
Not even an earthquake can wipe my grin. I kiss her cheeks and drape an arm over her waist. Somehow, we make it work with my son in the middle. She’s my bestest friend in the world.