About Last Night - Chapter 21
"Amy contemplated her position. Morality dictated she should be there for her friend, the friend whose life Amy ruined, the friend who could ruin everything for Amy. "
Dear ones,
I know the world is crazy right now. Crazier than ever in our lifetime. I hope my story gives you the possibility to escape the madness a few minutes at a time. Let’s see what happened next.
Catch-up on Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapters 13 and 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, and Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, and Chapter 20.
January, 2018
Amy woke up with a splitting head ache. She had a messed-up dream. She was running with David through the forest. But not the young-them, the now-them, holding hands like teenagers. Behind them, a posse made-up of Christopher, Helena, Emma, Amy’s father and mother and, for some obscure reason, Clara Ridge, were hunting them down through the forest. They were going to hang them. They’d broken the law, they shouted. The law of decency. They had let everybody down. Suddenly, a sixteen-year old Helena jumped in front of them out of nowhere, like in a horror movie. She was covered in dirt, cuts and bruises, her T-shirt ripped, her pink bra visible though the biggest hole, looking like her soul has been abducted. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ Amy said and she responded, with vacant eyes, over and over again ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to… Talk about it…’
The ping of an incoming text startled her. She looked at her phone and saw another text from Helena. ‘Amy, I’m sorry.’
She scrolled down to all the other messages Helena had sent her. Too many to count. Amy’s only reply so far was ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She knew she would eventually have to deal with this. Just not right now.
Shattering glass and loud voices reached her from the street. She hated living there, in this cul-de-sac next to a low-end strip club where the girls smoked more than they danced. She knew it from the moment the estate agent walked her through the entire 25 square metres of this ‘bijoux’ studio apartment. She could smell the damp and desperation in the air, but it was the only place she could afford.
She needed it and the estate agent knew it. He smelled the hopelessness on her like a hyena getting scent of blood. The job at the hospital, the move to London, getting as far away from her father as she possibly could. Year after year in student accommodation to finish her studies, get her degree, earn her independence. She had been dreaming of her own four walls for as long as she could remember. She wanted to make those four walls her own. She took a series of images of cells with her microscope and had them increased, printed and framed. She wanted to always remind herself of the universe that existed inside us. People were just one version of the multitude of universes contained within one another like Russian dolls. She promised herself never to forget that.
She had been proud of herself until last night. So proud that she could make it on her own. Well, almost on her own. But then David and Helena came back into her life like bad smells and fucked it all up. Her father’s curse, now more real than ever.
Amy dragged herself to the bathroom, opened the mirrored cabinet and took out a blister of Paracetamol. She swallowed two tablets without bothering with water. She took off her sweat-drenched nightie and ran the shower.
The hot water hit her skin, restoring the resolve the dream had weakened. She was going to meet with Christopher the next day. She was going to apologise to him. She was going to put her old life and this depressing flat behind her once and for all. Step into a bright future secured by Christopher, whether she deserved it or not. And she wasn’t going to let anything or anyone get in her way.
The restaurant was the usual hipster-style affair, covered in plywood, hanging ferns and black walls. Christopher waved at her from one of the tables. He gave her a hug and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, before pulling out a chair for her.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he said.
‘A café latte, please.’
He gestured to the server and then settled his gaze on her face with a smile. He took her hand in his.
‘Are you okay?’ he said.
She expected some reproach for the abysmal way that she had behaved. But she got this instead. Unconditional love and understanding. He couldn’t be for real. She must be imagining this man sitting across from her, like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind.
‘Chris, I’m so sorry about the other night,’ she said. ‘I was tired and I wasn’t feeling well.’
‘I know, Muffin,’ he said and his smile turned cheeky.
She laughed. ‘I prefer Cupcake.’
They sat in silence for a few moments, holding hands, their relationship, an abnormal cell, bound to turn on itself sooner or later. Just not yet.
‘There’s something I wanted to ask you,’ said Christopher, bringing Amy back to the present moment.
‘What is it?’ she said, an ominous feeling rising from her belly.
‘What’s going on between you and Helena?’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘I thought you guys were best friends.’
Amy grabbed the glass of water and took a sip, her hand locked tight around it. ‘We were best friends in high school. But that was a very long time ago,’ she said, in a measured voice.
‘It didn’t seem that way to me. You two behave more like sisters.’
Amy frowned. ‘Where is this coming from?’
He shrugged. ‘Just curious, that’s all.’
Amy contemplated her position. Morality dictated she should be there for her friend, the friend whose life Amy ruined, the friend who could ruin everything for Amy. And it wouldn’t even be that hard; Amy’s life could win the prize for the world’s most fragile architecture. And now with the added complication of David, it looked like it could be only a matter of time until her life and relationship with Christopher would be blown apart.
‘She’s still my friend,’ she said after a long pause, choosing to tell the truth. ‘I’m just not sure I know her anymore,’ she said.
Christopher took a sip of water. ‘I have this feeling that she is in some kind of trouble, and she doesn’t have anyone else to turn to.’
Amy felt a pang in her chest. Why was Christopher so interested in Helena? Her heart began to pick up pace.
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, as controlled as possible.
‘I don’t know. Just a feeling I’ve got,’ he said and looked away, trying to locate a server.
Amy’s hands clenched under the table. She looked out onto the window. It had started to rain, and the street looked empty, save for the odd passing bus. The trees were bare, and there was no colour to be seen anywhere, except for the red sign hanging over the kebab shop on the opposite side. They used the same font as KFC, but it read FCKT. Was that supposed to be short for Fuck it? She turned her gaze back to Christopher.
‘Amy,’ he said, cupping her hands with his. ‘I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but she needs a friend.’
‘No,’ she said, so quickly she even surprised myself.
‘She needs you,’ said Christopher.
‘No.’ She stared at her empty cup of coffee, milky foam drying on the bottom. It was clear to her now. Her betrayal. Her plotting against Helena. It didn’t start on New Year’s Eve. It started long before that. Maybe Amy already knew she would make a scene. Maybe she wanted Helena to give her an irrefutable reason to kick her out of her life. A reason nobody could call into question. And now she was creeping her way back in, and she didn’t know what she could do about it, without revealing herself and who she truly was.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with Helena right now. With work and the wedding to plan for,’ she said, caressing Christopher’s hand and making invisible traces on his skin with her fingers, tempted for a split second to also tell him why. ‘I hope you don’t hate me for it.’
Christopher stayed silent for a moment, and Amy worried that this was the one thing he couldn’t forgive her for: being a bad friend. The man was a saint. How could he understand that Amy couldn’t do what he wanted her to do? That too much was at stake? How could she even begin to explain? Christopher always jumped in to offer help, whether it was convenient for him or not; and the blade he took for a kid was proof of that. Sometimes Amy wondered if he felt anything at all. If goodness just came naturally to him, that it was embedded in his DNA. Was he some kind of modern saint? If some people were born psychopaths without feelings, needing to fake humanity to blend in, perhaps others, like Christopher, were born with such an excess of empathy, that they could not help but keep putting others first. Was his love for Amy even real? Or was she just another charity case?
‘Amy,’ he said, looking at her through her pupils straight into her soul. ‘I can never hate you. You saved my life.’ He turned around and scooped something from the inner pocket of his coat. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to give you.’
Amy’s heart started beating faster. What could it be? He already gave her an engagement ring. She felt something cold inside her palm. A set of keys.
‘I think it’s time you let go of your flat and moved in with me,’ he said, when she opened her eyes.
There you had it. A fucking saint. And Amy didn’t believe in saints.
Hope you enjoyed this week’s chapter. Stay hydrated, stay safe, stay sane, stay human! Free Palestine!
