Hello, Again

Chapter 5

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And maybe if I hold you now, would you hold me now?

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Emily Gilbert didn't quite keep her promises.

She often promised people things – for as liable as she was to break these promises, she did make one too many. She promised Amelia she'd show up at the meeting with Thomas Campbell, she promised George she'd show up at his office dinner, she promised her mom (and his) that she'd call more often, and she promised herself she'd finally join that yoga class – but all these utopian visions remained thus – visions. A girl with her hands and mind full at nearly all times, she didn't intend to let people down – it just happened.

At the moment, she sat beside a visibly upset Amelia Barnett, torn between (new-found and shaky) friendship, and devotion to a solid, underpaid internship.

Poor Amelia (and her new-found, shaky friendship) didn't even stand a chance.

Poor Amelia, to her credit, did not look all that Poor. She sat in a corner of the banquet hall, her shoulders hunched defensively, one hand holding, almost begrudgingly, onto a fork, hovering uncertainly over a porcelain plate, sparsely populated with food. Her eyes were rimmed red, her face in a (inadvertent) scowl, her lips pouting. The table was almost empty; it was one of the two reserved for employees and their plus ones, and seemed to be the only thing working in Amelia's favour.

Emily shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the silence and the sullenness and the steady passage of precious time, glancing up at the tables in the front which now seated the featured artists.

Adam McAllister stood out effortlessly.

Even sitting, he was a tall man. He sat with a similar hunch, his smile intact (if not completely), his hair gleaming in the bright lights, nodding along to something Campbell was saying. She mused how much of a big deal artist must have to be, to be seated right next to the museum director, then felt immediately guilty and turned her attention back to Amelia.

The latter had emerged half an hour ago, stunned and shaken, from the Roof Garden, and had stayed in Emily's vicinity for the minimum time it could take for the blonde to give the directions to the nearest ladies' room, at which point Amelia had promptly disappeared. Emily wasn't thoroughly clueless though – she had seen Adam exit the roof mere minutes ago and it did not take her long to join the dots, and even half the picture looked melodramatic and messy. Giving Amelia her space, she'd progressed to the Petrie Sculpture Court, weaving through the throngs of people, her fingers fumbling frantically through her handbag for the itinerary.

The brunette had appeared eventually, walking briskly over to where Emily checked the guest list for food preferences, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"Ames! Oh, hi, how are – I mean, I was just coming to get you – I'll take you to your seat, okay?"

Amelia had shaken her head in response, her motions stiff and awkward, "No, it's absolutely alright. It's that table in the second to last row, isn't it?" She had pointed to a table at the back where Jonathan Clark and Rosie Johnson sat. Emily spotted her colleagues as well, gave Johnson a short wave, then turned towards Amelia, nodding in reply, "I'll be there, just give a minute."

Amelia had nodded as well, and left, a lone soldier in blue wading through a mass of black.

The present moment had found Emily at the very same table, nervously eating a spoonful of her Gnocchi as Amelia looked dejectedly at her mushrooms.

"You should try that", Emily suggested in a quiet voice, "that's the best side dish they offer here."

"Hmm", Amelia replied articulately, and the conversation stalled again.