7
Icy winds whipped tiny tornadoes of snow across the street. Amanda shuddered and pulled the coat tighter. She’d decided to walk down the block and get herself breakfast at the nearby café – a decision she was now regretting when the clouds swallowed the bleak winter sun and the northern wind bit into her exposed face.
She’d needed to get out of her apartment, though. The week after the attack she’d barely left her bed. She could’ve died – it had taken a while for the realization to sink in – and when it hit her in full, Marc had already vanished.
The only remains of the obelisk were a blackened patch of grass and a few pebbles on the lawn. Even the circle of ice and snow around it was dark with soot.
At the entrance to the apartment building, she noticed her new neighbor. She’d watched him carrying boxes the other day. Tall and classically handsome, he leaned against the wall, lazily sucking on a cigarette. Tucked in behind his ears, his chestnut hair fell down the sides of his face, almost reaching his broad shoulders. He reminded her a bit of Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction in his impeccable black suit and tie.
“Hi, you’re new, right?” Amanda said as she passed him at the door.
The man nodded and took another drag.
“I’m Amanda.”
“Don,” the man said, sending a whirling puff of smoke into the chilly air.
Amanda waited for him to say something else, but he remained silent.
“I’m afraid I don’t smoke, but if you need to borrow sugar or milk”–She grimaced–“I’m on the third floor.”
Don nodded again but didn’t seem to find her joke particularly funny. She smiled nervously and went inside.
“Ah, there you are!” Sarah said when Amanda rounded the second landing of the stairwell. “I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“I’ve only been gone for twenty minutes,” Amanda said and checked the mailbox – still empty. Marc hadn’t replied to her last letter, and it usually only took a day or two.
“Well, it felt like forever. Maybe if you walked a little bit faster, people wouldn’t have to wait for you.”
Amanda pursed her lips and hung off her coat. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Beer, if you have.” Sarah sat down by the kitchen table and stared at her phone. “Unless you have something stronger?”
“I only have tea and coffee.”
Sarah just shrugged. Amanda had seen this look before, and she sighed internally.
“What’s going on?” she said reluctantly and put the kettle on.
“Ryan and I broke up,” Sarah said nonchalantly. “Are you sure you don’t have any wine?”
“I’m so sorry, about…. both.”
“You don’t sound very sorry,” Sarah snapped.
Amanda froze. Her hands balled into fists.
“Honestly, I’m not.” She turned around, facing her friend. “It’s your sixth guy this year, and we’re only in February. Maybe you should stop dating douchebags?”
Sarah finally looked up from her phone, her eyes like rain clouds, ready to shoot lightning. “Maybe it’s none of your business who I date?”
“You’re making it my business every time you come moping about it. You cry so much on my shoulder, I’m afraid it’ll get waterlogged!”
“Well, don’t expect any sympathy from me when Marc dumps your ass.”
Amanda shook her head. “Don't bring him into this!”
Sarah stood up, her face twisted. “Why not, huh? What’s so special about him?”
“Because he’s not... like the men you date.” Amanda tried to remain calm, but her insides felt bloated by the anger.
Sarah laughed bitterly. “Like what? Real men? Bad boys? Is that what you’re trying to say? Well, guess what, honey, I’d pick a bad boy over a little goody-two-shoes every single day of the week!”
“You’re not too far off, are you? Maybe you should start naming your boyfriends after the weekdays?”
Sarah looked like she was about to throw something. “You’re the worst friend – you know that? I wasn’t even going to bring up Ryan!”
“Sure you weren’t,” Amanda spat and rounded the table. “You’re a spoiled brat, and I honestly think you’re the problem in all of your relationships!”
“And you’re just an uptight bitch, who will never find true love even if it stared you in the face! You’re like one of those sad little…” Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Amanda, what the hell are you doing? Put that knife away...”
Amanda blinked and looked at her hand. She was clutching a large kitchen knife so hard that her knuckles were turning white. In horror, she released the grip and dropped it to the floor. Sarah stared at her, and then her face darkened again.
“You need help... goddamn psycho…” Sarah said, rounding her at a safe distance before promptly exiting the apartment.
Amanda sank down with her back against the wall, catching her head in her hands. She hadn’t even realized she had the knife. What if she’d hurt Sarah? Her throat suddenly felt swollen and tears blurred her vision.
She reached for her phone and called Sarah. Several signals went through before the line beeped busy. She tried again but got straight to voicemail.
Sobbing softly, Amanda dragged herself over to her desk and fumbled out a pen and paper. She was just about to start writing a letter to Marc when a knock came on the door. She quickly wiped her tears on her sleeve and hurried over to the door.
“I’m really sorry–” Amanda stopped herself.
“Hi,” Lucy said. The girl smiled, hugging her elbow. “Can I come in?”
Amanda looked at her, a frown creeping into her forehead. She wore the same black hoodie from last time, but at least she had sneakers on her feet now.
“Aren’t you freezing?” She nodded at Lucy’s bare legs under the jeans shorts and moved out of the way.
“I find the cold refreshing.” Lucy shrugged and pulled the hoodie over her head, revealing a pale strip of skin and her belly button in the process.
“How did you find where I live?” Amanda said.
She glanced at the girl’s black t-shirt that said, ‘Good girls go to Heaven. Bad girls go down to Georgia.’
“I have my ways,” Lucy said and padded into the kitchen.
She poured herself a cup of tea from the still untouched kettle before plopping down on one of the chairs.
“How are you, Amanda?” Lucy put her thin lips to the rim of the mug, her turquoise eyes following Amanda across the room.
“I… uh, I’m okay.”
“You’ve been crying.”
“It’s nothing, just an argument with Sarah.”
Lucy pointed with her foot at the knife on the floor. “Doesn’t look like nothing…”
“I don’t know what happened.” Amanda picked up the knife and put it back in the stand. “It got kind of heated.”
“Next time you’ll kill her,” Lucy said and smiled.
“W-what?”
“Next time you’ll be kind to her.”
“Oh,” Amanda mumbled and touched her forehead. “Yeah, I should. I said some things I regret.”
She hadn’t slept well since the incident with the priest, and a headache was slowly making itself known by pounding on the insides of her skull.
“How’s Marc?” Lucy said, taking another sip.
“I don’t know…” Amanda sighed and crossed her arms. “I haven’t seen him in a week, and he’s not responding to my letters.”
“Maybe he’s got his hands full?” Lucy tilted her head to the side. “You look tired. How about you lie down for a bit?”
“That sounds really nice, actually… but I wouldn’t want you feeling neglected.”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all!” Lucy took Amanda by the arm and led her over to the sofa. “Let me get you a blanket and tuck you in. I’ll take good care of you.”
“You’re so nice – I wish Sarah were more like you.”
Amanda closed her eyes. She felt Lucy’s fingers stroking her forehead and gently massaging her temples.
“Thanks, Lucy,” Amanda said. “I owe you one.”