Waking Amy (Amy #1)

by Julieann Dove

  Ashley bent over and laid one right on his lips. She wasn't shy, possibly just confused at the directive to do it. It was fast, albeit a kiss. I waited. Nothing happened. No change. Not even an involuntary muscle moved. I moved away from the bed and sat down on the chair.

  Ashley must have seen the relief I felt. “Okay, that was weird,” she confessed.

  Mark put the chart back into its plastic holder. “Your turn, Amy.”

  My look transcended words. No, he didn't. “I'll kiss him before I go. Like usual.”

  He lost at his own game. Ashley backed up from Wesley and directed herself to Mark. “I'm looking forward to tonight. I hope you aren't too tired to have some fun. I haven't been out since last weekend, and I'm ready for anything.”

  Unbelievable! There lies the guy she dated, although not entirely exclusive on her part, for most of her high school and college years, in a coma. And all she can do is firm up plans for going out on a date with his doctor. Age certainly wasn't perfecting her in terms of sensitivity or monogamy. Maybe she and Mark would make a great couple.

  “I'll be ready.” His look bounced from Ashley to me. “Amy, are you going to stay with Wesley tonight?”

  I unclenched my jaw to answer. “No, I'm going out with a friend.” There is no way I'm staying home, checking off the minutes until you fall into my front door, fondling my sister.

  “Oh, I didn't realize they caught the guy who had done those things in your neighborhood.”

  “They didn't.” I did my best at the game of chicken. I wasn't about to be the first to flinch. I could go out and come home in the dark and show him.

  He didn't have anything else that he could say in front of Ashley.

  “I'll be over to pick you up later then.”

  “I'll be ready.” Ashley oozed a little when she said it, her breasts perking up, having been within a couple feet of a male specimen.

  Mark left us in the room. I watched wistfully as he disappeared into the hallway. So what if he was going out with my sister tonight? So what if she was going to get to smell him, and watch him over dinner as he smiled with that dimple showing? So what if she enjoyed how he opened the doors for her, and placed his hand on the small of her back before letting her walk ahead of him. I'd call Sonja and go out and get plastered from all that good stuff I was missing. I hoped I wouldn't become an alcoholic, trying to escape my thoughts of Mark and what I chose to be missing.

  “I need to go to the Plaza, Amy. Let's leave in time for me to pick out something ravishing for tonight. I'm feeling certain it will need to have easy access.” My jaw hurt from a lifetime of tension from my sister.

  “Well, let's go, I guess.” I touched Wesley's hand and looked at the eyes that refused to open. Even if I had brought him a sacrificial first love to aid in the process.

  “I'll check on you later, Wesley.” I retrieved my pocketbook and waited for Ashley to say something lame to him. I didn't bother trying to eavesdrop. She had failed at her mission to arouse his consciousness.

  We arrived at the Plaza and I followed my sister into a swanky store that I only window-browsed. The centerpiece in the carpet was an emblem of the store label. Marble-topped tables with the latest spring fashions flanked the walkway back to the fitting rooms. There were a few racks of dresses, mostly for special occasions, adorned with sparkles. I supposed plain cotton had never graced the mannequins in this place. They didn't even have faces. Just white statues that wore the clothing like suggestions, so that you didn't have to laboriously try them on.

  A tiny middle-aged woman approached us, graciously wringing her small hands and offering her assistance. Ashley sent her away, assuring her that she would know what she wanted when she saw it. I took a seat beside a very bored husband on the attractive sofa at the back of the store. There was no need to fool anyone that I was doing anything other than waiting for my sister to pick the outfit that would probably end up on the floor in about four hours. Mark might have to break the rule of never taking a girl back to his house, since Ashley didn't have a place of her own.

  Ashley searched the racks next to where I sat. “Where are you going tonight, Amy?”

  “I don't know. I don't think we've settled on the place.” I pulled at the back of my neck. A trait from adolescence that told Ashley I was lying.

  “Amy, why don't you just confess that you're not going out with anyone? Why would you say that you were?” She pulled a dress from the rack and inspected it for curb appeal.

  “Ashley, I am going out. Why is it so hard for you to believe?”

  The older gentleman got up from the couch, possibly in search of his missing wife.

  “Okay, fine. Is it a movie date or a dinner date? I'm sure it's a girl you're going out with. You never did have any guy friends.”

  I tried to control my temper and response. I could dig up a male to have a casual night out with! What was that guy's phone number? The one from work that smelled like mothballs? I'm not picky.

  “Actually, it's a guy who just started in my department. We've been having lunch and he wanted to take me out to take my mind off of Wesley. I've been in the hospital for a week and he's been concerned.” Lies were coming easier than usual. It must have been all the practice I got the night before with Mark, at his boss's vineyard.

  “Wow. I guess I got that one wrong.”

  “What?” I thought she had seen through my paper-thin lie.

  “I had sensed something between you and Mark last night, and then when you were talking to him in the room just now. It's silly though.” She began shopping the rack of dresses again. “It's not like there's a chance for Mark. You're a married woman, and I know how seriously you take your vows. You were always Mom's pet, telling her you'd be like a penguin. Mating once for life. God, I think I'd die. But Wesley has nothing to worry about with you going out on a friendly date tonight. I'm sure the guy must be Dad's age anyway. White hair, both on his head and in his ears.” She said it like marriage was the shackles that would never grace her delicate ankles. Like I was desperate and someone to be pitied.

  I refrained from pulling at my neck again. “He definitely doesn't have white hair. He's tall, with light brown hair, and goes to the gym three times a week. All the girls at work are actually a little jealous at the attention he's been giving me. But you're right, Wesley has nothing to worry about. I'd never leave him alone, like he was used to being left. I know, maybe I'll pick something for my evening out.” Do you want to see what a pitiful married woman can do when pushed?

  I walked through the pompous store, looking for just the right outfit that would make my sister think differently of me. I strolled right to the red dress that couldn't have reached longer than the top of my knees. My insides made an immediate screeching halt. What was wrong with playing dress up for one night and pretending to be the sexy one? My sister brought out the competitive side in me.

  I pulled a size six off the rack and walked it defiantly to the equally pompous woman, who stood charge at her register. “I'll take this one.”

  She rung me up as Ashley waited her turn. We took our ribbon-tied bags home and went to our respective corners of the house. The one who came out sexier than the other was the winner. I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my new dress. It was ultra-form-fitting, hugging and revealing my true figure. I had revealed more leg this past week than the last five summers combined. Even my pajama pants were crop-length. And I hadn't been in a swim suit since my life-guarding days at the country club. Even then I asked the manager if it was acceptable to wear my shirt while on duty. Who had I become? I walked down to the kitchen to get a drink. This new girl was exhausted.

  Ashley sat at the table. I noticed she was checking the email on her phone. She looked up and saw me in my new dress. “You look fabulous.”

  Not the response I thought my sister would say. “Thanks. I'll finish my hair after I get a drink. What are you doing?”

  “My agent hasn't called, so I was hoping she might have em
ailed me.” She slid the phone across the table and laid her head down. Something was obviously troubling her.

  “What's wrong, Ashley?” I sat down next to her with my glass of tea.

  She didn't raise her head, talking to me through her arms. “Amy, I haven't had a job in three months. Not one call back. Not even for the denture commercial I read for.” She raised her head. “It could happen. Young, attractive woman wear dentures, right? I could've had gum disease and lost all my teeth. At least that's what my agent told me in hopes I'd agree to do it.”

  I stretched my lips into a sympathy smile. “Sure, I can see it. But I thought you were doing theatre. Aren't you doing that while you wait for television?”

  “I'm flopping, Amy. If something doesn't give pretty soon, I'll be waiting tables for the actors.” She threw her head down again. “You're so lucky. You don't have to prove yourself every day. You've got a home, a husband, and a job that you seem to like.”

  Thousands of skinny snakes squirmed in my stomach. Weren't sisters supposed to tell each other the truth? Ashley had extended her honesty first. She might even help by being my sounding board.

  “Ash, my life isn't all that.”

  Ashley looked up with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Was she happy that it was all a facade?

  “I wasn't going to say anything, but the night Wesley wrecked his car, he was leaving me.”

  The explosion left an incurable silence. The refrigerator finally came on, as the ice-maker dropped a new load of frozen cubes. I waited to see if the look of shock would leave my sister's face.

  “Oh my gosh, Amy. I'm sorry to hear that. Is he seeing someone else? No wonder you're going out tonight. Are you just taking care of Wesley until he wakes up and he's all right?”

  “Of course he's not seeing someone else. What would make you ask that? We just hit a rough patch. I'm going to try to make our marriage work. I'm going to start by changing a few things about myself. You know, like going out with him more, taking weekend trips. It's just that I've been complacent lately. You know how Wesley likes more action than five nights of dinner at home followed up with sitcoms till bedtime.” Why did it bother me that my sister knew him better than me?

  Ashley acted like she'd just tasted tofu and bean sprouts. Her face contorted at the very thought of boredom. “But weekend trips aren't your thing either, Amy.”

  “Well, if it saves my marriage, then I'll learn to like them. And it's not bad. I enjoy going out. I found out how much fun it is to dance. I totally love that. I'd like to have something to talk about at work on Monday. I'm ready for a change.”

  “If only Wesley liked to dance. He likes to hike and hunt. Don't you remember when he'd go away after every Thanksgiving for a couple weeks? He and his dad would go out to their cabin and hunt bears or deer. Whichever, I don't remember.” She traced the lines of my dining room table with her polished nail.

  “The thing I remember is you would stay gone at Michelle's house when Wesley left.”

  A mischievous smile found her lips. “Yes, those were some of the best weeks of our relationship. It gave me a chance to take a break from him.”

  I interrupted her walk down memory lane…without Wesley. “You digress, Ashley. I'm sure if Wesley and I started doing things that we usually don't, things are bound to improve. Just because you have a few rocky moments doesn't mean you have to roll over and call it quits. Not me anyway.”

  Ashley touched my arm. Sympathy screamed in her eyes. “Poor thing. You were always so sheltered. Mom and Dad had you tied up in a cocoon all your life. Lord knows they kept you from seeing and hearing all their fights. You couldn't have handled it. I'm not so sure they wouldn't have been happier divorced.”

  “What are you talking about? They never fought, Ashley. You must be thinking about something else.”

  She laughed at my naiveté. “Of course they fought, Amy. But only when they thought we were out of earshot or gone from the house. Sometimes I was still in my room when they'd light into one. Mom complained of always having to go on trips with Dad to resorts for his company retreats. She had that same look in her eyes as you did when that guy Phillip from college wanted to take you to the fraternity parties. I knew you were miserable there. Maybe you should consider taking a break from Wesley. See if maybe you two aren’t happier apart.”

  With one stupid remark, my sister reminded me of how much venom I felt towards her. The condescending tone, the tilt of her unconcerned head. There was no way that I was going to confess to no date tonight. I'd find a dark movie theatre and hide out until midnight if I had to. She had no idea what our parents’ marriage was to them. They were happy. I would've known if they weren't.

  “Well, I have to go finish getting ready. I don't want to be late.” She left her glass on the table and ran upstairs to pull off her look of midnight Madame.

  Chapter Ten

  It was four thirty and I had finished all my primping. Complete with thigh highs, heels, make-up and loose curls. It was necessary for me to be gone before Mark picked up Ashley. I couldn't bear to have him see through my lie of having a date with a friend. Or to wish it was me he was there to pick up. I had gotten in touch with Sonja, and she told me she could meet me for a drink before her date. I took her up on the sympathetic mission to relieve the guilt I felt for lying about a male co-worker meeting to take me out.

  I stood outside the bathroom where my sister was curling her hair. Ashley put the iron down and looked me up and down. “You look delicious. Don't do anything that I would.”

  I smiled pleasantly, knowing most of those things were probably illegal in many of the fifty states. “Have a good time, Ashley. Just put the key under the pot again. I'm not sure if I'll be back when you get home. When do you think you'll be home?”

  “Hopefully very late. If at all.” Tiny horns cropped up on top of her head.

  “He doesn't take girls back to his house.” It slipped out before I could catch it.

  “How would you know, dear sister?” She put her hand on her hip, demanding the information I knew.

  “Kelly the nurse told me. She was dishing about all the doctors on the fourth floor.” Nice save.

  “Well, Mark Reilly hasn't gone out with me yet. I think I'll make him take me to the new restaurant Pierre's downtown. I called Michelle earlier and she told me it's tasty, intimate, and expensive.”

  She had to be kidding. That was where I was meeting Sonja. I'd have to call and change our location when I got in the car. Out of range for Ashley to hear.

  “All right then. Have a good time. Don't order the Caesar salad, they use anchovies.” And don't choke on your Cosmopolitan and spew vodka all over your new dress.

  I got in my car and pulled out my phone to call Sonja. She answered on the second ring. “Great, I'm glad I caught you. Can we meet somewhere else? Maybe Sullivan's out there past the Plaza?”

  “Amy, I'm here waiting for you. But Rick's plane arrived earlier than scheduled. I don't have much time before I have to go pick him up.”

  “Okay, I'll be there in a couple minutes. Order me something strong.”

  I hoped Mark wouldn't agree with Ashley about going to the posh restaurant. But what if he did? What was wrong with both of us going to the same place? With me having a drink? With me watching Mark through the etched-glass divider of the bar. To see if he looked happy. If he used the same bedroom eyes on my sister as he did with me. I needed to know.

  I turned right at the stoplight and found a place on the street to park, far enough from the entrance. A street light guarded my car while I was passing time, giving my dress a test drive and taking notes on my sister's date. My pulse rate compared to a short-distance runner, as I pulled open the door to the aristocratic restaurant.

  The hostess stand was located in front of the lounge area. I targeted it and moved past the couples waiting for their tables and saw Sonja waiting for me. I slid onto a black barstool and rested my heels on the brass footrest. My posture was perfect, as I r
ehearsed what to say about why I asked her to have a drink while my husband was in a coma.

  “Hey, girl. My Lord, look at you. You look like you just walked off the pages of Fashion Weekly. Damn, you should wear that to work and see what the others say.”

  I felt heat rise to my face. “Thanks, you don't look bad yourself. What do you think Rosa and Paige would say?”

  “Well, I know they wouldn't think you were home, under the covers, depressed.”

  “What? They think I'm depressed?”

  “We're just worried about you. You haven't seemed happy in a long time.” She took a sip of her drink. “Wait until I tell them how you looked tonight.”

  She adjusted the strap on her heel. Her black dress was low cut. The spaghetti straps looked as though they were losing the fight, holding up her DD-sized breasts. The bartender walked over and placed a square napkin down in front of me. He was no Tom Cruise, but he had potential. I kept my head lowered, darting my eyes from the back wall to the entrance.

  “I didn't know what you liked, so I waited till you got here to order your own drink.”

  “I'll have an apple martini, please.”

  “You've got it.” He went to work on my order, as I did a visual of my new waiting room.

  Glass shelves of liquor sat meticulously on the inset of the dark mahogany walls. Lights shone down on the more expensive bottles. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a partial mirror. Not the usual looking Amy, I thought. The place began filling up. The last night before a work week was beginning. Everyone seemed to be squeezing out the last moments of recreation before Monday hit.

  “So, what brings you out and where did you get that dress? It looks like it was made for you.”

  “I was just feeling stressed over all the hospital stuff. You know, the worry and pressure. I just wanted to go home, take a long bath, slip into something daring, and go enjoy a drink with my friend.”