“Amari…” he says and I look up to find his eyes on mine.
“We’re done here.”
He nods as if finally giving up. “I’ll be seeing you,” he replies with a confidence that reminds me of his daughter. He walks out of my office and I focus on his retreating figure, wondering what he means by that.
I close the door and sit at my desk as his words assault me. I never stopped loving you. That’s the sentiment that echoes through my mind. And regardless of how much I don’t want to feel this emotion, hope takes over my body.
20
AMARI
From my place on the couch, I hear a knock at my door. Getting up, I wonder who it could be and my mind goes to the worst possible case scenario. Christian. He said he was here earlier in the week and that he would see me again, so it wouldn’t totally surprise me if he were back for round two today.
I’m not ready for round two or any more rounds for that matter.
Reaching the door, I take a deep breath then open it.
“What was taking you so long?!” My best friend says right before she envelops me in her signature bear hug.
Relief swarms me. “What are you doing here?” I say in between mouthfuls of her hair. Gross, I know, but she’s got so much of it that when it’s not contained with an elastic it’s all over the place.
“What do you mean?” she asks, letting go of me. “I told you I was coming.”
I open the door the rest of the way, letting her in. “I was expecting you tomorrow.” She said she’d be here on Friday not Thursday.
“I happened to be done with work earlier than I expected. Felt right to come and surprise you. I figured you’d be home around this time.”
“Well, you were right. I got here a few minutes ago,” I step back from her hug and smile at her. My best friend always makes things better.
“I see you’ve settled into pajamas already,” she says, taking in my appearance.
I’ve missed her so much. “At least you found me with clothes on,” I tell her, laughing.
“Smartass,” she bites back.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, bringing my arms around her one more time. I hug her tightly and then, unexpectedly, I start to sob.
“Let it out love, let it out,” she tells me the thing she’s told me many times before.
Lately, it feels like all I do is cry. “I’m so sorry!” I wipe at the tears and internally beg them to stop.
“Christian, huh,” Emely says knowingly.
I push through my sadness. “Did you drive here?” I ask, closing the door behind us.
“Not to Forest Pines, no. I flew in then rented a car at the airport.”
“You should’ve called me… I would’ve picked you up.” I’m trying to change the conversation because I don’t want to talk about him. Not right now.
We make our way to the living room. “I thought your car wasn’t working…”
“No, it’s not.” Wait a second. “How did you know it wasn’t working?”
She gives me the ‘oh shit’ look I know very well coming from her. “You told me,” she replies a few seconds later.
I know for a fact I didn’t tell her my car wasn’t working, especially because telling her that would’ve led to a whole conversation about what happened after it broke down. Talking to her about my car would’ve opened a whole can of worms about Christian I wasn’t ready to open.
“Don’t lie to me,” I tell her as we both stand across from each other in my living room. God, I’m so sick of lies. Why does everyone lie to me? Why don’t people think I’m worth the truth? When did honesty stop being the best policy?
“Amari,” she starts and the look in her eyes tells me I won’t like what I’m about to hear.
When she steps toward me, I take a step back. “How did you know?” I ask again.
“If we’re going to have this conversation right now, we’re going to need a drink.”
“We can skip the drink and go straight to the truth.” My chest tightens and I wait for the other shoe to drop. If my best friend thinks I need alcohol in me to hear what she’s about to say, it’s not a good thing.
I see the helpless look in her eyes, a look she doesn’t wear often. “Do you trust me?” she asks.
“I do,” I tell her. I trust her with everything. But every second we stand in my living room, I start to doubt whether I should.
“Alright, I’m going to need to use my best friend card while I still have it,” she says and the uncharacteristic seriousness in her tone confirms to me what I already imagined. Aside from Hannah, the only person she could’ve learned my car wasn’t working from is Christian. I know it wasn’t Hannah because they don’t know each other. And even if Hannah had told her about it, she would have already told me. It wouldn’t be as big a deal as she’s making it.
Emely heard it from Christian.
Emely has talked to Christian. My mind reaches its own conclusion, making my heart question everything in the process.
That’s the only reasonable explanation and yet it is so unreasonable. It makes no sense at all. Why would my best friend be in contact with my ex-boyfriend? It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that I had the chance to exchange words with him myself. Why would he be comfortable telling her about the status of my car?
“You need to just talk to me, you’re worrying me. I’m starting to think the worst of you and I don’t like that.” Not at all. Emely has been a rock in my life, sustaining me when I felt like I couldn’t move forward anymore.
She takes a deep breath and, from where I stand, it looks painful. “Can we go somewhere for a drink?”
“No, we need to talk now,” I tell her. My words are firm, leaving no room for discussion.
She looks around the room and for a second I think she’s about to run out of here. “Do you have scotch?” she asks.
I guess she really needs some liquid courage to tell me what’s going on. “Yes, I do.”
“Could you pour some in a glass?”
“Do you really need alcohol to talk to me right now?” I ask though at this rate I’ll just give her what she needs so she can finally tell me what I need to know.
“I do and I think you will too. So, let’s just get two glasses. One for you and one for me.”
I look at her, trying to figure out what she’s keeping from me. “Emely, you’re scaring me.”
“I know… it’s just a little scary to have this conversation with you. Could we please get a drink, then I’ll tell you everything?”
Everything. The last word feels so packed and I stand here with no clue what it means.
I’m desperate to hear what Emely has to say and know she won’t tell me until I’ve gotten her, us, the drinks she thinks we so desperately need.
Heading over to the kitchen, I look through the liquor cabinet and find an unopened bottle of scotch. I don’t read the label further than the fact that it’s scotch. I don’t even notice the name of the brand. I notice the dust in the bottle and decide to run the water to clean it.