Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Seven | London, November 1998

Chapter Seven

London, November 1998

 

                It was hard sometimes for Andrew to understand Amara’s need to ‘get out’, as she said.

“I need to get out.” She’d say, marching into the bed room wearing her coat and favourite boots.

Andrew would tilt his book down on his chest from his spot on the bed.

“Okay.”

“You don’t feel cooped up?”

“Not really, no.”

She would huff, or roll her eyes; it was Amara being Amara, and Andrew knew how to handle it.

So he would close his book ask; “Want to go people watch?” or “How about we visit the Royal?” The Royal being the little cinema down the street were you pay a few pounds to get in and see a surprise movie.

This would cause her to light up in the way he loved so, and he’d grab his jacket and they’d head out. Amara had grown up in the bustling city, with outgoing parents and siblings and surrounded by friends and peers, as well as hundreds of strangers. Andrew on the other hand had been raised seeing a max of three other people a day for weeks at a time. Though he loved the city and it’s atmosphere, he never felt the need to leave the tiny apartment except for work or to meet Amara for lunch or something. He was a solitary person, something he’d never seen as a bad or a handicap.

Amara would leave for hours, the whole day; to spend time at the printing studios at the University or to study with her classmates. Andrew would come home from work at five-thirty to find the apartment empty and dark; she would tumble in a few hours later holding takeout and smiling broadly. He loved to hear of her day, to listen intently to her tales of the people she knew and talked to – but he could not seem to go through the looking glass between their worlds.

It was a Thursday evening when they had their first real fight. A rainy one, miserable out and the sort of rain that made you sad, not cozy.

Andrew came home as the clock stuck ten to find Amara sitting on the couch, her books spread over the coffee table but the television turned to a kids channel.

“I thought you were home tonight.”

Throwing his keys in the bowl, he took of his soaking jacket and ran a hand through his damp hair “It’s Thursday, I go to Sonia’s on Thursday. Charlie works nights on Thursday.”

Amara snapped her book shut, trying to convey her feelings through a simple glance “Can’t Sonia look after Max on her own?”

“She can, but we like to spend the evening together.”

“You spend a lot of evenings together.”

He shrugged “So?”

“So, I just thought you were going to be home.”