Alex knew the one thing that Amy was denying was that their affair was inevitable, the attraction between them too strong. But everything had gone horribly wrong. Somehow, he had expected that if he spoke to Amy and was honest, she would see the truth. He looked at her with disbelief and realized how seriously they had underestimated her anger and resentment.
Amy touched his arm. “Alex,” she said gently. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t what you want to hear. I know you want a fairytale ending, but you’re not going to get one. I don’t want to blame her, but being here has made me realize that I do.” She stood and walked from Alex toward the house.
Alex stared after Amy. Reaching over, he flipped over her sketchpad. Startled, he blinked a few times. The hair rose on the back of his neck as he looked down at a grotesque caricature of Celeste.
†
Watching Alex from the window, Amy poured some water into a glass. How dare he? How dare he think he could give a pep talk and then everything would be okay? What did he expect? She thought. That I would flounce into Celeste’s arms after his little speech?
Looking out the window, Amy watched Colin approach Alex. She drank some water and watched Alex’s hands gesticulate when Colin took the sketchpad from him and looked at it. She caught her breath when Celeste approached them. She watched Colin slowly give her the pad.
Celeste never once lifted her eyes from the sketchpad while Alex spoke to her. When he finished, she straightened. Her arms falling to her sides, she moved slowly toward the house.
Amy placed her glass carefully on the kitchen work surface. She turned to face the door.
Celeste entered and stood across from Amy. Her movements slow, she put the sketchpad down on the table.
After a few moments Celeste spoke. “I had hoped being here would allow you to find some closure; would allow us to, somehow, put the past behind us. Allow us to build something together. A friendship? A relationship? It didn’t matter what it was. I would have accepted anything. Any morsel you were prepared to give.” Celeste smiled derisively. “It seems very naïve of me, doesn’t it?” she said, searching Amy’s face. “Naive to hope that loving you would be enough?”
Amy stared transfixed at Celeste but said nothing. She focused on Celeste’s lips, drinking in their fullness. Her pulse quickened. The sexual tension that had been building since they had made love a few months ago thrust forward as it had that day she sat on the deck watching Celeste emerge from the ocean. Again, it forged into one moment of absolute need.
Amy closed her eyes briefly, in despair, when a pool of desire flooded her. She turned to look out of the window and carefully, monitored her breathing.
“That night in your apartment when we first made love, it was so unexpected,” Celeste said, bending her head. “Believe me, I prayed, Amy. I desperately wanted not to want you. But whatever happened that night, you touched me. You made me feel things that no one ever had.”
They stood in silence.
Celeste eventually spoke. “Because you were marrying Josh, and…” she hesitated, “and because you were carrying his child…children, I kept away. Hoping what I felt for you would pass. That it was some weird infatuation. But when I came home, the feelings intensified. They were so intense; so new, so uncontrollable. At the beginning, I was genuinely confused. I actually believed that if we got together the infatuation would burn itself out.”
“How naive!” Celeste looked at Amy. “The night I knew I loved you,” she offered gently, “was when we were in New York. I held you in my arms and watched you sleep. I had never felt so frightened. I was thirty-three years old. I had seen atrocities that could unhinge the mind. But nothing had prepared me for what I felt for you. My heart, body, mind, everything was yours,” she whispered. Her eyes darkened. “I am yours, Amy. And because of that, I hope you understand that the choice has never been mine.”
Celeste pulled Amy close and rested her forehead on hers for a moment before kissing her.
Amy’s mouth instinctively opened and Celeste kissed her fully. The kiss carried none of the tension and anger between them.
Celeste kissed Amy for a long time, eventually taking it to a light, sweet, lingering kiss. Letting her go, she moved away.
Amy swayed at the loss.
“I’ll give you time to pack and say goodbye to the children.” Sadness filled her voice. “I would like it if you occasionally contacted them. But,” she shrugged heavily, “it’s up to you.”
Celeste looked at Amy for a moment longer, misery pouring from her eyes.
Amy closed her eyes and turned away from her.
After a few moments, Amy heard a car start. At last! You’ve got what you wanted. Now quickly say goodbye and leave.
But Amy didn’t move. Instead, she watched the children play and gently stroked her lips, still wet from Celeste’s kiss. She bowed her head, realizing that even with everything she had been through, at this moment, she had never felt so alone.
Chapter 50
It had been weeks since Amy had come home. Since her return, she had been unable to shake the cocoon of emptiness that surrounded her the moment she had parted from Celeste. Somehow, she had expected to feel a great sense of relief. But instead, to her surprise, everything she had successfully buried for the last few years was being pushed to the surface to such an extent that she was now unable to settle into a routine.
Following the first week of her return, on a whim, Amy had bought canvases, paintbrushes, and oils, and over the last few weeks, when she wasn’t at work, she spent her time painting.
Amy stood back and looked at the painting that was half finished. “It’s not my usual work,” she muttered, before turning full circle to look at all the other canvases. She eyed them. Lifting her T-shirt, she scratched her side and felt her ribs. She fingered each one, aware that she was neglecting herself, but she couldn’t help it, she reconciled. Whatever time she had to spare, she needed it to paint.
Amy’s stomach grumbled. Rubbing it, she told herself that as soon as she got this out of her system, she’d pay attention to herself and get right back on track, but her stomach rumbled loudly this time and Amy realized she couldn’t wait; she needed to eat. She left the living room and walked down the hallway; it was dark. Recently, she liked it that way.
Entering the kitchen with a flourish, Amy threw open the fridge door and bending down, inspected it. To her disappointment, the fridge was bare apart from a half-empty carton of congealed Chinese food. She smelled it, grimaced, then threw it in the bin. Her internal voice rankled, You need to get your act together and get some shopping done.
Over the last month, Amy had been unable to work up any enthusiasm for shopping. Whenever she felt hungry, she ate at the local café or at the hospital canteen. This was her weekend off and looking in the fridge, she tried to remember the last time she’d eaten. She straightened and thought hard. Was it Saturday? She scratched her head and thought. No. It was Friday. I had a bowl of soup at the café on Friday.
Amy cringed when she realized that today was Sunday. She looked at her watch; surprised that it was ten in the evening. She hadn’t eaten properly in more than three days.
“You must remember to eat,” she told herself. “Otherwise, everyone will think you’re losing the plot and—”
Amy stopped and listened. The phone was ringing. Expecting the call to be from her mother, she slowly closed the fridge door and headed toward the living room. Before answering, she wondered how quickly she could get Irene off the phone and get back to work.
“Hello,” she answered distractedly.
When she heard Daniel’s voice, Amy’s focused sharply. He was excited, explaining he had won an art competition. Amy smiled as she listened. She had desperately missed the children.
After a few minutes, she heard Naomi’s voice grow louder. She was impatient to speak to her. After some wrangling, Daniel passed the phone to Naomi. Grinning, Amy took a seat and chatted with Naomi about what the little girl had been
doing. She smiled when Naomi told her that her favorite pastime now was horse riding, and that she had recently lost her front tooth and had gotten five whole dollars under her pillow when the tooth fairy visited. Now, she couldn’t wait to lose all of her teeth, if that meant she would get five whole dollars every time.
Eventually, after much persuasion, Naomi passed the phone to Colin. “Hi, Amy,” he said as he shooed the kids out into the backyard. “We’ve got them because Celeste is working late tonight.” He hesitated. “They’ve been at me to let them call you, and since Danny won the art competition it’s been the zillionth time, at least, that they’ve asked this week alone.” He muttered in a low voice, “They miss you badly, you know.”
Amy could tell he was anxious. He hadn’t stopped for breath.
“And, well, you know, with kids it’s too hard to explain what’s really happening. I hope you don’t mind. But I promise it’ll be just this one time.”
Amy’s throat constricted and she coughed to clear it. “No,” she replied. “Of course I don’t mind.” She paused. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You know, everything’s fine.” His voice held a tinge of pride. “Alex has got travel bug and wants us to go to Australia. He’s convinced that my horizons need broadened.” He laughed.
Amy smiled. To her surprise, she asked, “How’s Celeste?”
Colin breathed in sharply. “Well,” he answered after a moment. “I’d like to say she’s fine, but she’s not. She’s really struggling.” Frustration crept into his tone. “Oh look man…I don’t know if it matters now. Does it?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “You’ve made it pretty clear where you stand. And anyway I called for the kids’ sake.”
Amy’s heart sank. She could hear the tension in his voice. She was sorry their friendship had ended this way.
Colin said quickly, “I gotta go, Amy. The kids are calling me out back.” He hesitated then lowered his voice, “But if you really want to know, I’ve never seen her look so bad.” To Amy’s surprise, he sounded almost wistful. “I have always admired Celeste for her strength.” He laughed a little. “You know she’s that type with the quiet but strong demeanor. But since you’ve been gone, she’s agitated. She’s thin…too thin.” He breathed. “She’s not herself. She can’t eat, she can’t sleep because she’s missing you. She needs you. But,” he added so harshly that Amy could almost see him squaring his shoulders, “you know that, Amy. Don’t you?” He finished coldly. “You’ve always known that, haven’t you?”
Amy’s jaw dropped.
He whispered into the receiver, “Huh, don’t you?” His tone softened. “I wish I could knock some sense into you, Amy. I want to wake you up. You love her. You don’t hate her. But your anger and resentment is affecting not only you but all of us. And to be honest, it has done for a long time now.” He sighed heavily. “Too long.”
Surprised, Amy struggled, but couldn’t find anything to say.
“Do you know what the cruel part is, Amy?” Colin asked. “It’s that you’ve allowed her to take all the blame. You need to stop blaming her and wake up to the real world, take some of the responsibility on board yourself. It takes two to tango, sweetie.”
Amy still hadn’t uttered a word.
She heard anger in his tone. “Don’t make me believe you’re a lost cause, Amy.”
Again, she said nothing.
Colin sighed. “Good luck with your life, Amy. If you continue like this you’ll need it.”
Amy heard a click, then the dial tone. She stared at the phone, stunned. Her stomach churned as his words replayed in her mind. The familiar anxiety she had been experiencing since she returned rose a notch. Tired and very upset, she slouched and sat for a long time with the phone in her hand. Eventually, she put it down and standing, approached her painting. She stood for a moment, staring at it, before picking up the paintbrush and working on the canvas.
†
Amy looked at her watch. It was seven in the morning and she hadn’t stopped since the phone call last night. She let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that she had less than one hour to get showered and ready for work. She put down her paintbrush and looked at her hands; they were covered in paint. She pulled at her T-shirt and looked at it; it was soaked in paint. Amy moved quickly toward the bathroom. Partway there, she started feeling lightheaded. She stopped to lean against the wall. She thought about sitting down, but knew that if she did she wouldn’t have the energy to get back up. She pressed her head against the wall, aware she was reaching her limit.
After a few minutes, she made it. Weak, she undressed before opening the glass door to turn on the shower. Standing under the cold blast of water, shivering, she waited for the water to heat up. Once the water warmed, she bent forward and put some turpentine on a cloth. Following a ritual that she had been carrying out every workday since she started painting again, she began to remove the paint from her arms before scrubbing the rest of her body.
Methodically, Amy removed all traces of paint. She had gotten into the habit of painting barefoot in Sarasota and preferred to paint barefoot even though it was winter here.
Working on her feet, which were blocks of ice, and too weak to stand, Amy was forced to sit in the bathtub to finish the job.
After she finished dressing for work, Amy sniffed the air. Although the turpentine she used was odorless, she always ensured there was absolutely no evidence of a smell with spray deodorant and perfume.
Her stomach grumbled loudly and Amy decided, as she put her coat on, that she would stop off and order some hot broth and hot bread rolls at Denny’s. At the front door, she bent down to collect the post. It was the usual mail, which recently she hadn’t even bothered opening.
Amy picked up the bundle and put it with the other mail on the dresser in the hall. A large manila envelope, postmarked from Sarasota, caught her attention. Her heart thudded. Opening it, she carefully pulled out its contents. She read the note attached to the sheet of paper.
Hi Amy,
Danny is desperate for you to see his work. Hope you like it.
Drop a note to let us know how you are and what you think.
Hope you’re well.
Love,
Alex
Amy held a copy of Daniel’s painting. It was his home on Lido Beach. She looked at it. His painting was beautiful. There was a huge yellow sun on the rise and big black birds flying across the sky. There were sand dunes that didn’t belong, but at his age, it was a good sign of a fertile imagination. The colors were vibrant.
Amy smiled, acknowledging that he had a real talent. She felt a lump in her throat and squeezed it to relieve the tightness forming. She touched her cheek, expecting tears, but there were none. Surprised, she wiped her hand across her cheekbone just to check before carefully sliding the sheet back in the envelope.
On my next day off, I’ll get it framed.
Chapter 51
Arriving at work carrying her hot soup and hot, buttered rolls, Amy pushed open the heavy door leading into the children’s ward with her shoulder and entered the nurse’s room. She smiled when she saw Sandra, who was back for the first time since taking six weeks of unpaid leave to backpack across Indonesia.
Sandra gasped when she saw Amy, unable to believe the transformation. Amy looked terribly thin, her hair tied back in a tight bun, her skin pale with dark circles under her eyes. She looked ghastly. Sandra was surprised. Since Celeste and the children’s visit during the summer, Amy had put on some weight, had looked in good shape and the picture of health. In fact, Sandra had met Celeste and the children many times during their stay, and loved the fact that they were such a good influence on her friend.
Amy hugged Sandra. “Thought you might need this,” she said, handing her a cup of hot soup. “It’s bloody freezing outside.”
Accepting the soup, Sandra said, half-jokingly, “You look like hell. You haven’t missed me that much have you?”
Putting down the cup, Amy smiled and shrugged
out of her coat, then took off her gloves and scarf.
Sandra gawked at her friend, shocked at how loose her uniform was.
Sitting down, Amy peeled the lid off her cup and shoved her nose into the steaming smell of the delicious soup. She opened up a bag with the hot buttered rolls and passed one to Sandra.
Transfixed, Sandra watched Amy dunk the roll into her cup and catch the soggy bread in her mouth. Amy moaned and her eyes rolled back. She dunked again and gave the task of eating her full attention. She finished her roll quickly.
Sandra pushed her bread roll toward Amy, offering it to her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Sandra replied. “I had something to eat this morning.” She tried to hide her concern with a smile.
Amy smiled back, and taking Sandra’s bread roll dunked it into her soup.
Sandra watched, aware by the looks of her that Amy hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while. She queried gently, “What have you been up to?”
Amy chewed and swallowed. “You know me, busy, busy, busy.”
Yes, Amy, Sandra thought. By the looks of it you’ve been too bloody busy, busy, busy!
Concern showed on Sandra’s face as she watched Amy eat. With sudden insight she thought, sadly, you haven’t been coping since you got back from Florida, have you? She felt a stab of guilt that she hadn’t been there for Amy. Taking her friend’s hand and deciding to keep it light, she said jokingly, “I hope busy, busy, busy involved shagging all weekend because you look absolutely knackered.”
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