Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (31 page)

“Yes. Didn’t you like her at one time?”

“Sure, in high school. And I believe she didn’t give me the time of day back then.”

“That’s because Wesley didn’t like you, and they were always on and off.”

He stretched out his leg and rubbed his pants. “I don’t know. I’m leaving the day after Christmas to go on a ski trip with my buddies. I won’t be back for a couple weeks. It’s not like I can ask her out.”

“No, but you can pave the way for a possible date when you get back, can’t you?”

I held onto my packages. My hands were getting sweaty.
Just commit to coming inside and saying something
—
anything!
I needed to check her temperature on moving forward with someone. I needed to see her in action toward someone other than Wesley. Secretly I felt she was enjoying all the attention Wesley had been showering on her. It was positively nauseating.

Jim must’ve seen the desperation in my eyes. “Sure, let’s give it a go. Does she still look hot?”

“Sure.” I looked at him sideways and got out of the car.

I put down my bags and heard the music blaring from the kitchen.
Really? No wonder Wesley didn
’
t hear my incessant phone calling.
Jim was behind me as I pushed open the door and stopped dead in my tracks. Wesley had Ashley pushed against the refrigerator. His one hand held up her leg while his other hand held onto the appliance. I couldn’t breathe.
Curse that damned refrigerator; curse Wesley Whitfield! And my sister? What sister?

I felt a hand on my arm and began pumping oxygen back into my lungs. Starting up involuntary muscles had become a necessity.

“Dude.”

Jim had to be the one to say something. I still couldn’t move. Breathing was more than enough effort.

Wesley turned around quickly. Ashley pulled down her shirt. For what it was worth. That’s all she wore, with candy-colored underwear. That stupid, come-and-get-me shirt and bobby socks.
How can anyone compete with that?
Somehow my pajama set didn’t lure him into going upstairs last night. Maybe I secretly wore them to provide me a shield, like a porcupine wears quills. Maybe deep down inside, I un-advertised for Wesley.

“Amy!” He shook his pants down and came toward me.

I backed away, mouth still gaping open large enough for large cats to jump in.

“I—”

“Save it. Man, you just never learn, do you?” Jim pushed him away.

Jim was a godsend to have beside me that day. He took my arm to lead me away from the crime scene I’d just witnessed. On the way out, I heard Ashley calling my name. The music in the background seemed to have been turned down.

My legs still shook as I sat in the front seat of Jim’s car. “Just drive.”

He started the car and I kept my head lowered, focusing on the floor mats. I didn’t know what to be thinking. How to be feeling.
He
’
d done it again.
Wesley was in no shape or fashion in love with me. Maybe he thought he was, when he was destitute and had no other option. Just like after college. His parents were gone, and so was Ashley. I made sense then. And after Violet left him with a ton of bills and he came back, I made sense again. I was always a plan B.
Plan B
. I would reflect on that. Obviously Ashley would always reign as plan A.
What a fool I was.

“You’re coming to my house.”

Jim would get no argument from me. Heck, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Or a way to get there. Even my car had abandoned me.

I didn’t know where I was at first. I looked around at the room. It was dark and I still had on my shoes. There was a blanket on top of me. I rose up, trying to see any strip of light I could. A sliver came from under the door. I called out. “Hello.”

Jim opened the door and the light blinded me so that I had to shield my eyes. “Where am I?”

The last thing I remembered was taking a pill he’d handed me. Jim told me I’d be all right after I took it and laid down. I guess not eating accentuated its power.
What time was it, anyway?

“You’re in my bedroom. I was becoming worried. You’ve been out five hours.”

“Five hours? What exactly was that pill?”

“A mild sedative. My doctor prescribed them for me to sleep better.”

“Good to know.” I scratched my head and scooted to the edge of the bed.

“I’ve got sandwiches out here if you want.”

“I don’t think I can eat.” Or function. I just witnessed my life slip down the drain. For the second time this year. No, make that the third time. Two times with Wesley, once with Mark.
Did they have some type of institution for people like me?
Instead of drug rehab, relationship for idiots rehab.

“Amy, you have to eat something.”

I walked toward the light and down the hallway, stopping in at the bathroom. “I’ll be a minute.”

I turned on the light and stared at myself.
What a joke.
Right in front of my own eyes.
Sure. Ashley, come on and live here with us. Get back on your feet. Watch late movies with my husband. Dress like a hooker for breakfast while I
’
m scrambling eggs in my robe for your sorry, jobless ass.
God forgive me. I just felt I needed a good butt-whipping by no one other qualified than myself.
Twice!
Twice I thought Wesley and I had our crap together. Tom predicted it. Oh my gosh!
Tom.
I was supposed to go over to his house. I splashed water on my face and went in search of my phone.

“Looking for this?” Jim held up my phone.

“Yes.” I took it from him and sat on the kitchen stool, watching him cut a sandwich in half for me. My stomach turned a little.
Ham? Really? What did I do to deserve all that was happening to me?

Five missed calls from Tom, two messages from him wondering where I was, and ten missed calls from Wesley. None from my sister.
Whore.

I dropped the phone on the counter and began to cry. Out of the blue. Maybe the pill was a mood enhancer.
God, where was my life spiraling to? Why did I put myself on a platter for Wesley?
Dress myself up with “here I am again; do with me what you wish.” I was such a stupid jerk. Playing at the foundation, as if I had my crap together.
Sure, my husband is now the managing partner. I
’
ll be handling that fundraiser.
What an idiot.

Jim’s hand rested on my shoulder as his other hand handed me a ham on rye. I wiped my eyes with a napkin I found on the counter.

“I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. But Amy?”

“What?” I tried to compose myself.

“I don’t think it’s a good time to ask your sister out.”

I laughed. Then I cried again.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make light of it. You weren’t really into that jerk, were you? You could do so much better.” He sat down beside me and laid his arm across my shoulders.

“I thought he really found out I was who he wanted.”

“Consider yourself missing a huge boulder that one day would mash you down until you were unrecognizable. He’s not worth your tears, Amy.”

I buried my head in my hands. I’d never get this right.

“Give me a minute, will you? I’ve got to make a call.”

I knew if I didn’t call Tom, he’d drive to my house to check on me. I pressed his number and sat up tall in my seat, wiping my pity tears away into the napkin.
Boy, I hoped I didn
’
t break down while I was on the phone with him.

He answered on the first ring. “Amy?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner. Time got away from me, I guess. We’ve been doing this and that and I wasn’t paying attention.” I bit my lip, trying not to lose my stuff again.

“You said you were coming over after lunch, though.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Can you still come over?”

Oh no! He still wanted me to come over.
“I’m kind of busy. How about tomorrow?”

“Kate invited me for breakfast, but I can cancel. It’s weird to go out on Christmas morning, isn’t it?”

“No. Go, Tom.” My lip quivered. Sadness rushed over me like a waterfall. “Kate is a good woman. She’s probably already got the bacon and eggs in the fridge, waiting for your arrival.”

“Amy, I’d rather see you. Can you come?”

“After lunch, I promise. Now you promise me you’ll have breakfast with her?”

Hurry up.
I don’t know how much more I can keep this dam from breaking and bringing out all the tears I’ve held in over the months.

“Okay. Are you sure you’re all right? You sound different.”

Darn that man. Why did he know me so well?

“Of course I am. Now sleep well.”

“Okay. You too. Good-night.”

I got off the phone and shoved away the plate Jim had made me and began to cry again. This time for Tom. Because I wanted so to tell him. To lie on his shoulder and cry until it was all better. To have him there beside me, like he’d been so many times before.

I walked into the house and sensed a coldness about it. Despite my perfect living room set, the fact that it was Christmas and the temperature was warm—there was a feeling of a mortuary. Something had died. The stillness made me uneasy. I’d texted Ashley that out of respect for me that she and Wesley should be gone when I went over and picked up a few things. I couldn’t go to Tom’s and seem normal wearing yesterday’s clothing and evidence of heartbreak stuck to my face. I needed and wanted my own belongings to get ready.

My bedroom was empty. Empty of everything. Thank God it didn’t have a smell of sex in it, rumpled sheets, and askew frames on the wall. Lord knows that’s all I pictured the entire night. Yes, Christmas Eve, the night when all the little people of the world are all worked up about Santa coming down chimneys and leaving presents, I’m thinking about my husband and my sister reenacting
Fifty Shades of Grey
. I pushed the worn-out imagery from my mind and went to the bathroom to retrieve my toiletries.

I was halfway finished with putting them in my overnight bag when I looked up and saw Wesley in the doorway. I jumped. “Good Lord, why are you here, Wesley? You scared me half to death. I told Ashley I wanted to be alone.”

“I needed to see you.”

He still wore what the sap-sucker had on yesterday. I remember the blue sleeve, watching it grope my sister in the kitchen downstairs. Seeing the entire motion picture playing under a microscope in my mind all night. The back side of his pants as they pressed against her. His elbow locked against her.
Ahh
…

“Well, I don’t need to see you.” I pushed past him and went to the closet where my suitcase was. I felt as if it was only a few days ago that I’d unpacked the stupid thing.
So much for settling.

“Amy, I need to talk to you. I need to know you’re okay.”

I threw my bag on the bed and emptied my things from the drawers into it. “Okay? You need to know if I’m okay? Let’s see now—I come in the kitchen of my home, where I was absent buying you a Christmas gift (I was buying one for Ashley and Tom, too, but who’s accounting for everything here) and see you ramming my sister.”
Ramming?
I couldn’t seem to think of a better verb. Now I pictured him as a goat.

He grabbed his head and cowered down, finding a spot to sit on at the end of the bed. I tried not to look at the puddle of pathetic mess. This was all him.
He made his bed, let him sleep in it. With or without Ashley.
I couldn’t care less. I had no one in the world now.

“Amy, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry I came in on you or sorry for screwing me over? Yet again.” I threw my pants and overshot the bag.

“Would you stop for a second and talk to me.” He turned around, his eyes serious.

I stopped momentarily and froze in the spot I was standing. This man—this guy I’d given myself to for the last six years of my life—had ripped my heart out again. And the funny thing was I wasn’t surprised. There comes a time where you just know it doesn’t get any better than this.