Chapter 22 #2
Amelia shut the door in her mother’s face.
She leant back against the wall before slowly sliding down and collapsing on the floor.
The tears came silently. She let years of unsaid words and pain spill out.
Instead of shaming herself into bottling up her emotions like her parents had taught her, she let herself cry.
The panic that had been rising in her throat abated, slowly replaced by a wave of grief that knocked the wind out of her.
Grief for the relationship she didn’t have with her parents.
The childhood she should have had. The rift she was trying to mend between her and Clara.
Having finally stood up to her parents, she wasn't sure when she'd see them again, or even if she would. The thought both scared her and freed her.
Finally, tears dried, Amelia found herself alone in the darkening hallway, cold and exhausted.
She considered calling Evie or TJ, but she knew they were visiting TJ’s extended family about now, going to share their good news.
She didn’t want to disturb them. She ran her fingertips over the back of her hand and took a few more deep breaths.
Her brain reminded her of another person she could reach out to.
My parents just left. I could really use a friend.
Amelia was scrubbing the spilled coffee with a carpet cleaner when another knock came at the door.
She almost didn’t hear it over the noise of the machine’s vacuum and the loud, angry music coming from her living room stereo.
She turned off the carpet cleaner and wiped the sweat from her brow.
The machine had spewed too much hot air into the room, but at least she wasn't cold anymore. She walked to the door with a sinking feeling in each step. She really hoped her parents hadn’t come back.
She was not ready for round two. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
“I’ve come bearing ice cream and gin,” Keira held up a shopping bag. Amelia could have kissed her.
“Come in.” She stepped aside. Keira stepped in, kicked off her shoes in the hallway, and walked into the living room like she’d been over hundreds of times before. In reality, this was only her second visit to Amelia’s house. Amelia found Keira’s apparent familiarity with her space comforting.
“Have you got spoons for this?” Keira’s voice from the living room snapped Amelia out of her reverie.
She shut the door and retrieved two spoons and gin glasses from the kitchen.
When she returned, she found Keira had put the bag on the coffee table and taken out the contents.
A smile stretched Amelia’s face as she spotted the Ben it was reassuring.
“Isn’t it?” Amelia asked, though perhaps rhetorically.
The truth hit her like a slap in the face.
She’d kept Keira at arm’s length because of her parents’ expectations of perfection and success over everything else.
How they’d almost religiously conditioned her to follow the rules and put everyone else's needs first. She’d simply applied that to basketball, even though her parents didn’t approve of the sport, relationships, and every other aspect of her life.
She kept all her emotions in neatly organised boxes, carefully locked away and contained for fear they would jeopardise the constant battle for perfection she would never, ever win.
She felt like she’d been sucker-punched. Her therapist would be proud. She looked up at Keira, still holding her arm and smiling at her.
What have I done?
Amelia searched Keira’s eyes for something, anything, any kind of breadcrumb of hope. Keira smiled and squeezed her arm again, before turning and picking up the television remote.
“How about a film? A good rom-com always makes me feel a bit better when I’m sad.”
Amelia wanted to say no. Wanted to ask Keira to turn back around, confess how she felt, and beg for another chance. But she had no right to do that. Not yet.
After the film was over, and the half-finished-half-melted tub of ice cream was safely in the freezer, Keira got up to leave as she needed to get back to her dad. Amelia walked her to the door, hovering while Keira shoved her feet back into her shoes.
“Thank you for coming over,” Amelia said, voice earnest.
“That’s what friends are for, right?” Keira didn’t look at her, still fighting with her shoes.
Friends was another punch to the gut, even if Amelia really appreciated her friendship right now.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Keira said, one hand on the door.
After a second, Keira turned and engulfed Amelia in a hug. Amelia buried her hands in Keira’s coat, squeezing her tightly. Keira kept her in the protective embrace for several seconds, and Amelia felt like the rest of her problems just…melted away. Just for that moment.
When Keira pulled away, she kept hold of one of Amelia’s hands, letting it hang between them.
Amelia searched her eyes and found a distinct look of longing.
Keira’s eyes flicked to Amelia’s lips, and hope bloomed within Amelia like an orchard in spring promising to bear fruit.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Keira was already halfway out of the door, whispering a quick ‘bye’ without looking back.
Keira got in her car and drove away with a wave. Amelia folded her arms across her chest, already missing the warmth of Keira’s embrace.
Once Keira’s car was out of sight, Amelia shut the door and returned to the living room. She picked up the gin glasses, taking them to the kitchen to wash up. She then cleaned the kitchen, not out of rage, just something to do while she processed whatever had just happened by the front door.
It was there, wasn’t it? That look? Or was her desperate heart imagining things? She thought about her parents, about how their fear of anything less than perfection had paralysed Amelia and stopped her taking risks.
Living in your comfort zone isn’t really living.
She stopped cleaning, opened social media, and scrolled to Sonia’s profile.
Hi, I know we’ve never spoken, but I imagine Keira has told you about what happened between us. The last thing I want to do is cause more harm, so as weird as this feels, I have to ask — has she moved on? Or do we still have a chance?
She sent the message and returned to cleaning. It wasn’t long before she got a reply.
I mean, I sure as hell don’t trust you, but Keira still seems to. I know she misses you. You better not screw it up again.
I won’t. And I have an idea. But I need your help.