Chapter 15 #2
Her tea had already cooled when she jumped at the sound of someone trying her door handle from outside. Her fight-or-flight response kicked in, turning her rib cage into a vice, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Was it an intruder? She looked around for something to defend herself with.
Then the doorbell rang.
Intruders didn’t usually ring the doorbell.
She picked up her phone to check her doorbell camera and relaxed when she saw TJ’s goofy face pressed up against the lens.
It hit her like a ton of bricks; she had been supposed to meet them for lunch in the hospital cafeteria.
She swiped out of the doorbell camera and saw a huge list of notifications, many from TJ and Evie.
She hadn’t noticed them in her rush to get out of the hospital at the end of her shift. Her phone was still on do not disturb.
She rushed to the front door and fumbled with the keys to open it quickly.
Her anxiety told her that her friends were going to be mad at her.
Don’t think so little of them, her rational voice said, as she practised the self-talk routine she’d developed with her therapist. They care about you, they won’t be mad at you.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as soon as she was able to open the door.
Evie didn’t respond, instead hurling herself at Amelia and wrapping her in a tight hug, despite her injured shoulder.
“Are you okay? What happened? We know you get tied up in work, but it’s not like you to not show up without a text at least.”
“This one’s been on pins for the last seven hours,” TJ said, giving Amelia a brief one-armed hug as he ushered them all into her house, shut the door, and kept out the cold.
“Excuse me. Weren’t you the one who suggested we drive by her house, to at least see if her car was there?” Evie stared him down.
“Mm-hmm, and weren’t you the one that jumped out the car before I’d even had a chance to park it, to basically bang her door down?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Evie pointedly looked away from him.
Amelia led the pair into the living room and took a seat in one of the single chairs, leaving the bigger sofa for Evie and TJ. They sat close together, and Amelia immediately thought back to how she and Keira had sat on that sofa, and how tenderly Keira had massaged her feet.
“So, what happened?”
“Just…a manic day.” She tightly gripped her mug. “My mother has been hounding me about Christmas plans, and I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.”
“Everything else?”
“Oh, you know, work and stuff,” she said, not quite meeting Evie’s eyes. “I had a panic attack in work today for the first time in a while.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, man, that sucks.” TJ’s tone was very big-brotherly, and it soothed her, like sinking her tired body into a warm bath.
“Are you sure that’s all there is?” Evie asked suspiciously.
“Should there be something else?” she challenged. Evie didn’t respond.
She thought about telling her about Keira and their night together.
About how conflicted she was about sleeping with a teammate, and how dating said teammate, while excruciatingly tempting, was probably a terrible idea.
But also, about how it had been the most alive she’d felt in years.
How Keira had made her feel seen in ways no one else had.
But she didn’t think Evie, who had been desperate to get them together from the start, would hear all of that.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been too pushy with the Keira thing,” Evie said quietly.
It was like she’d been reading Amelia’s mind.
TJ put a reassuring hand on his wife’s thigh.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Evie said, “and I think I just let my romantic heart get carried away. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. ”
“Thank you,” Amelia said, and the tension fully drained from her shoulders. She hadn’t known she’d needed to hear that, but she did.
“She just wants everyone to be as happy as I make her,” TJ joked.
“I wouldn’t want Amelia to have to deal with the smelly basketball shorts that you leave lying around everywhere.”
“I thought you found my scent alluring,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Evie. He was quickly stopped by a flying pillow from Amelia, who couldn’t help but smile.
“Cut it out, you two. I’m right here,” she said half sternly, half jokingly. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that in all the chaos of the day, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Hungry much?” Evie asked with a laugh. “I’ve been really craving Indian, if you fancied ordering something?”
Amelia felt like she’d never heard a better suggestion.
She got up to make drinks while TJ placed their order.
She offered them both beers, but Evie declined because of her pain medication, and TJ declined because he was driving.
She grabbed them a couple of cans of soft drink instead, and shouted her takeaway order through from the kitchen.
She made herself another cup of tea and checked her phone again while the kettle boiled.
Another voicemail from her mother. She sighed. Time to rip the plaster off and listen. Her mother didn’t have anything new to say: What’s the point of you having a mobile phone if you don’t answer it. We barely see you anymore. I must be such a terrible mother for you to be avoiding me like this.
Dutifully, she listened to the whole thing while she poured hot water over the tea bag, then she deleted the voice mail. She read Keira’s texts next.
Hey, how’re you today?
I hope work is going well. I’m just hanging around the house with Dad.
Plus a few basketball memes, and then:
I’m going for a run tomorrow morning, if you wanted to join me? No worries if you’re busy x
Amelia stared at the ‘x’ on the end of the message. That’s new. She typed up a quick reply:
Sorry, it’s been a day, and I didn’t realise I’d left my phone on do not disturb. I’m working tomorrow otherwise I would have joined you.
She hesitated, hovering thumb over the ‘x’.
She only ever put ‘x’s on her texts to Evie and TJ, and it felt weird doing it with someone else.
But she shrugged and thought about how she didn’t usually sleep with teammates, either, and added three ‘x’s before she put her phone back in her pocket.
Returning to the living room with drinks for her friends, she found Evie and TJ cuddled together on the sofa. TJ gently stroked Evie’s arm.
Amelia felt a sudden pang of jealousy. It had been a while since she’d been in a relationship, but she couldn’t remember anyone else holding her like that.
Not until Keira, anyway. She missed the simple things about being in a relationship: not rattling around the house on her own, making morning coffee for two, having someone to kiss goodnight.
She thought about how nice it would be to kiss Keira goodnight every night.
“You alright there, pipsqueak?” TJ said. She looked up to see his gaze on her.
“Yeah, fine.” She handed them their drinks and settled back onto the single seat.
An hour and a half later, full to the brim with delicious Indian food, Evie was practically falling asleep on the sofa.
TJ gently shepherded her towards the door, wishing Amelia good night.
She locked the door behind them and leant against the hallway wall, tilting her head back with a sigh.
It had been a very long day. Her phone burned in her pocket, reminding her she had to deal with her mother at some point.
She sighed and decided it was best to get it over with, rather than leave it for another day.
Before she changed her mind, she sent her mother a text to ask if she was still awake.
The response was almost immediate, the caller ID intrusively flashing in her face.
Amelia took a deep breath before answering.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Oh, I’m good enough to speak to now, am I?” she said, always trying to guilt trip her. Remember her attitude is a reflection on her, not you. Her therapist continually pointed this out.
“As I told you the other day, I was working,” Amelia said calmly.
“Uh huh, but your shift finished hours ago.” Her mother left the accusation hanging in the air.
Amelia refused to dignify that with a response or the explanation that was expected, but not owed.
“Anyway,” her mother said, breaking the lingering silence. “Your father and I need to know what you’re doing for Christmas. You’ve barely been home to visit this year.”
“I’m working Christmas day, sorry,” she said. She was not sorry at all.
“I don’t know why they always schedule you to work. Isn’t it someone else’s turn?”
“I run my own schedule now, Mum,” Amelia reminded her, “and I’m choosing to work, so someone with young kids doesn’t have to.”
Her mother scoffed.
“Fine, your father and I will visit you in the new year then. If you’ll deign to see us.”
She focused on the pretty lights visible from the top of the Ferris wheel.
“Sure,” she sighed, resigned. “It’s been great to talk to you,” she said without a trace of the sarcasm she felt, “but I’ve had a long day, I need to get to bed.”
Her mother scoffed again.
“Bye, Mum, love you,” she said, hopefully.
“Goodbye, Amelia.” Her mother hung up.
She looked at the phone’s blank screen, grateful to have the call over with; but the sadness that always crept in after talking to her mother was blurring the edges of her vision.
She’d had a terrible day. She wished she could talk to her mother about it, and have her mother tell her it would all be okay.
But that was about as likely as her team winning the league this season after eight straight losses.
Amelia returned to the living room and tidied up the remnants of the takeaway. Some containers were still too warm for the fridge, so she put them on the kitchen counter. She dumped the dirty plates in the sink; she’d unload and reload the dishwasher another day. Today, she just needed rest.
She dragged her tired body up the stairs, unable to even bring herself to shower.
Instead, she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed.
Lying on her side, she caught sight of the framed picture of her and her sister that she kept on the bedside table.
She wondered if she should have asked if her mother had heard from Clara, but she knew that would have been pointless.
Reaching out, she ran her fingertips over the frame.
Her sister had changed her number when she’d gone no-contact with their parents, and she’d not given Amelia her new number, either.
She’d never experienced pain like it before or since, but she couldn’t be resentful.
She understood, only wondering where her sister was now.
Was she happy? She could look her up on social media, perhaps, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
She’d rather imagine her happy, than find out through the internet that she wasn’t.