Him & I

16

"Or perhaps it's what he didn't do."

Something in me tightens but I don't flinch away from her gaze. I'd never thought about it before, though now I see another good reason for Amy's intimidating appearance is her eyes. They don't just stare, they dissect your soul. Mama Yoli describing her with the spiritual blue eyes, is not so much of a joke now.

"Amy, please stop. Leave her alone. Can't you see how scared she is?" Pamela speaks for the first time since I got here. Her sounding the same. Normal. I sneak a look at her from behind Amy to see it's about the only thing that's remained the same about her.

I can't get over the dullness of her face, and how the glow of her skin has erased completely, now resembling something faded. The usually fit hoodie practically overshadows her.

"I wasn't- Gosh, fine. I'm leaving, anyway." Amy rolls her eyes, stepping away from me and further into the room, back to where she was before. I let a breath out through my mouth.

"That's not what I meant."

"No, it's not you." She dismisses, walking around and packing up her things, which aren't many to start with - phone, keys, blazer she never even wears during school hours and lipgloss. "I live too far away to be here at what? 6:15? Gotta go." She then makes an abrupt stop on getting to her friend. Well. If Amy could know all these before I did, Pamela's surely more of her friend than mine.

"And as for you darling, take care." Pointing a warning finger at her, "I mean it."  With heels on, she towers over Pamela with solid inches. But Pamela doesn't bother to look up. Not when her friend gives her a kiss on the cheek. Not when she's marching towards the door, heels clicking with every step. And not when she jams the door shut after leaving.  Pamela's eyes stay on me instead.

The tension doesn't magically melt away once Amy leaves. I'd thought it would, seeing her by the doorway, blowing a kiss to the room like this was a normal day. I'd hoped it would.

But it's obvious she wasn't the problem. It actually almost feels worse without her. She'd managed to do things that whiled away time, kept us from facing the real thing. Regardless of how mostly negative they were towards me, it created a fair haze of background activity.

Now, it's just Pamela and I staring at each other from opposite ends of the room. Her eyes watching me as much as mine watch her.

"You must hate me." She's first to speak.

There's faint sounds of chatter downstairs. A clock ticks on the bedside table and i'm reminded how such sounds would usually be buried by our voices, talking on random topics. Mostly her voice, anyway. But those were better times.

"Say something. Melissa, please say something."

"I don't hate you." My voice comes out choked. And when I attempt swallowing, the insides of my throat feel like I've dragged it on gravel.

I finally push myself off the wall, ruffling my scattered curls with shaky hands that don't know where to stay. But I fix them into the back pockets of my jeans.

"Thank you." She says quietly, trying a smile. I nearly scowl at her. "How's school been? And your reports? how's George?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to have an abortion?"