Amanda
*
"Amanda. Amanda?"
A hand waved in front of my face. I blinked, snapping back to my present with a start. It was then I realized I had zoned out since my coursemates and I converged at a small cafe to work on our group project. The both of them were staring at me, with our laptops, notes and papers cluttering the surface of the wooden table.
"Sorry, what?"
"Dennis was just giving a rough outline for the written material," Leigh explained, eyes fixed on mine with careful scrutiny. "Are you feeling okay?"
I nodded at the both of them, a little too hard too. "Yeah, yeah, I just... zoned out. Sorry."
"Well, is there anything bothering you?" Dennis asked. "You can talk to us, maybe we could be of help."
I thinned my lips and thought it through. How do you tell people who were kinda your friends but were more of people you were connected to through schoolwork about the fact that you'd had little to no grip of yourself since your new neighbor moved in? That the little grasp of sanity you coddled like the most precious thing in the world was at threat of being stolen from right under your nose? And since the said neighbor had moved in, you had managed to avoid them for nearly a week?
I couldn't. Because then they would think my life was a circus, and they weren't good enough friends for that kind of dump. Making new friends in your twenties wasn't fun, and fuck, I needed me some. Someone who could take my meltdowns with nothing more than a snort. Someone... someone like Ingrid.
I really missed Ingrid. After graduation she never returned to New York, choosing to set up camp in San Antonio. We spoke a few times over the phone, FaceTimed a couple, but I wasn't my best in terms of communication during that two year time period and often evaded her calls. Simply picking up the phone to speak with friends or family became a chore. I hated it, but it was my reality.
I pulled on a smile and again, shook my head at Dennis and Leigh. My brain couldn't think of a lie quick enough especially when the truth was weighing heavily on my tongue, so I opted for the most convenient. "It's nothing, really. Just a little spacy, I guess."
They didn't push any further and after we resumed working, I tried my best not to let my mind wander.
It was dark out when I returned to the complex. I rode the elevator up to my floor and stilled when the doors drew open. He wasn't aware at first, but then he lifted his head from his phone and I was fairly certain his expression matched mine for a second, before he schooled it into one of indifference. God, I wish it was just as easy for me, but the sight of him since our last encounter had an exaggerated effect on me. Like the way it was harder to breathe around him, and every nerve of my body felt awakened, hyperaware. And although I avoided him for days now, I'd secretly hoped to bump into him somehow.
"Hi," I said to him, hoping he couldn't catch the nervous eagerness in my voice.
"Hey," he returned, and looked like he was going saying more before he stepped out of the way. He used to be eager to know all I did. He liked to know the places I'd been to, the things I had done and particularly didn't like me staying out late. But things were different now. I pursed my lips in acceptance of that fact and stepped out of the elevator. I noticed he was dressed casually in sweats and a thin sweater that looked a little washed out. Only a few times had I seen him step out this way. It roused my curiosity.
"Where are you off to?" I asked just before he got into the elevator. When he turned to me, his eyes were narrowed in the slightest, like he was trying to decipher the reason for my question.
"I've not had anything in my kitchen for days, so I figured I need to stop procrastinating and get some food."
I found it unusual and suppressed a grin as I said, "That's unlike you, though. Your kitchen was always empty, and the only thing you cared enough to buy was ridiculous amounts of Nutella..." I trailed off when I realized he might not be okay with me bringing our past up.
Finn's expression gave nothing away. Maybe I was the only one stuck on them. If I recalled correctly, the only times he'd gone grocery shopping was out with me. He usually had it done for him, so it struck me that doing this alone might be new to him. Which compelled me to ask, "Do you need some assistance?"
The hard look in his eyes faltered. "Are you volunteering?"
"If you want me to."
"But aren't you exhausted? You look like you've had a long day and I'd hate to be an inconvenience for the rest of your night." There was a slight edge to his tone, like he expected me to bow out.
But I was just as headstrong as he was, so with an optimist smile, I shook my head. "You could never be an inconvenience."
He suddenly broke eye contact and shoved both hands into his pockets. "Fine. Do you want to go ahead right now?"
My hands felt the strap of the backpack slung on my shoulder and I realized he was referring to it.
"Yeah, let me drop my things in my apartment first," I said as I began to back my way in the direction of my apartment. "Just... don't disappear on me. Stay right there, thanks."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I wasn't planning to."
Once the front doors were shut behind me, I dumped my bag on the couch and held each sides of my face in mild panic. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."
Was was I thinking? Why didn't I just let him be? Why was I so eager to intrude on his life? Now I was going to share an elevator ride with him! A goddamn car space! The other time it happened, I'd been too drunk out of my mind to remember anything.
I stopped in my bedroom to have a look in the mirror. It was telling on my face that I'd been out all day, sitting through hours of classes and enduring more of studying. There was no time to fix anything, so I grabbed a bottle of perfume and one spritz in, I paused. What would he think if I came out smelling like fresh flowers out of nowhere? I didn't want him thinking I cared about impressing him, but this was something I would do in any other situation that didn't include him. Sighing, I dropped the bottle back on the dresser and made for the front door.
I took a deep breath and went back out into the hallway. I turned in the direction of the elevator, half expecting to see the spot where I'd left him empty, but Finn was still rooted in place. I was hyper aware as I walked to him, of every calculated step I took, careful to maintain a poker expression. He didn't say anything when I stopped next to him, and let me get into the elevator before he did.
In the same silence, we got into his car and he started the engine. After strapping on the seatbelt, I folded both hands on top my thighs and rolled my lips in. The silence was worse than any conversation we could have, I decided. It was tortuous and slow, with every second feeling like a whole minute.
"Where to?" My voice cut through the void.
Finn, whose entire attention never strayed from the road, turned to glance at me. "There's a store five blocks away. It's right opposite a pizza place."
"Oh, I know that one. I shop there sometimes."
"That's good, I guess," he said, and we fell back into silence. Lack of conversation meant we were left to our own thoughts, and I felt paranoid trying to imagine Finn's right now.
Was he loathing the time he spent with me? I wrung my fingers, a nervous habit, and tried to focus my attention on something instead. At a red light, I felt his attention on me and turned to meet his stare. Illuminated by the bright lights, his face was a beacon that I couldn't bring myself to look away from. The way he looked at me, like he easily peeled off the layers I bared on default to the rest of the world in search of what I tried to keep hidden inside, made me feel truly helpless. Not in the sense of being in danger, but like I could let myself be seen for a change.
He looked away first. I thought he did it to focus on the road, but one look at the traffic light showed we still had eighteen seconds to wait out. We didn't make anymore eye contact until his car eased into a parking spot at the store. When I got out, I let myself greedily inhale air that was not him. My head felt clouded and in need of clearing up.
With a fair distance between the two of us, we went in and I grabbed a shopping cart. I pushed it his way, but he shook his head.
"Go ahead and fill it with anything you like," he said while I pushed the cart along.
I slowed to a stop and turned to him. "But we're shopping for you, aren't we?" I asked, now unsure of the plan.
"I'm sure I can eat whatever you pick out."
At that, another realization hit. "Hold on. You don't even cook. Why are you buying all this raw stuff if you can't cook them?"
A mild look of annoyance crossed his features. It was a little cute, and perhaps the most emotion he'd displayed all night.
"I do," he said and resumed walking, leaving me behind.
I felt a grin on my face as I hurried to catch up with him. "You do know that making Nutella sandwiches does not count as cooking." I picked a few items along the way as I tried my best to meet up with him.
He halted and spun around. "That was then," he said crossly, and did a double take at the items I'd thrown into the cart which included jars of Nutella. Three, to be on the safe side. I bet they'd probably last him a good number of weeks if conserved. "And why do you remember that?"
Why, and not how, like I wasn't allowed to. But he had no idea how crystal clear details of him were for me, like time had never passed at all. I shrugged at him.
He stepped closer to me, looking down at me from his ungodly height. "You remember my allergy too," his voice was low, accusatory.
The memory from the wedding made my face heat up. Fuck me for thinking it would slide so easily. I stared back into his jarring green eyes. Nervous at the intensity of them and the confrontational nature of the moment, I pushed the cart ahead, leaving him behind for a change.
I heard him swear under his breath and felt his presence behind me as I weaved through aisles, picking anything my hand touched and dropping them in the cart.
"Amanda," he called. I tucked my hair behind an ear but didn't hesitate. He called again, but I was too busy comparing fat percentages on milk cartons. He appeared by my side and grabbed my hand, stopping me in my tracks. I realized he was way too close to me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face and make out the faint scattering of freckles across his cheeks. The proximity made my skin heat up.
"Skim or whole?" I asked, hoping my voice wouldn't break.
He must've realized the position we were in because he quickly let go of my hand as he took a step back. He turned away and raked his hand through his hair. When he returned, he looked remorseful, eyebrows drawn up in concern.
"I'm sorry, that was idiotic of me."
I shrugged and put both milk cartons into the cart. "It's okay."
"It's not. I don't know why I feel like this. And I hate that I'm taking it out on you. I'm sorry, Amanda. I really am."
I nodded slowly, reserving the countless questions at the tip of my tongue. We both clearly didn't do well with them.
"You were a huge part of my life," I stared at the items I'd picked out as I explained. "So I remember. Two years is not long enough to forget anything about you."
Without hesitating or tearing my eyes away from the cart, I resumed shopping. I didn't check if Finn was around me, solely focused on filling the cart so I could return home and retire to my bed. My heart felt heavy from our short exchange tonight. It needed rest from the soul sucking tension that seemed to always thrive between us.
Finn appeared with several boxes of pasta and dumped them into the cart. I risked a look at him. He was watching me, demeanor quiet and eerily calm. When it appeared he wasn't going to say anything, I broke eye contact.
"I still don't know how to cook. I try some recipes from time to time, but they're nowhere as good as food I would feed other people. I'll keep experimenting on myself until then."
I held in a chuckle. He rolled his eyes and it got harder, so I brought my hand up to muffle it. "Practice makes perfect, keep going. Stick to the easy ones. As you become better at those, the big guys become less daunting."
He stayed quiet for a moment and without saying a word, wandered to another aisle. We spent another quarter of an hour before we checked out.
"You should really pay me for this," I said as we carried the bags to his car. "I did most of the work. All you did was strut around the aisles and look pretty."
"You would never let me pay you, Amanda."
"Yeah, because that was a joke. Grim to see your sense of humor hasn't changed."
He spun around abruptly and rose an eyebrow at me. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I continued to the car without him, holding back my amusement at his facial expression.
The ride back to the apartment was just like the one from: silent. One thing that was different was the heaviness in the air. It was almost non-existent compared to a few hours prior, and I felt like I could breathe easier around him.
We rode the elevator up and at the junction between our doors, he dropped the bags in his hold and took the ones I held.
"Don't you need help taking them in?" I asked as the heaviness left my hands.
"I've got them. You've been more than helpful to me tonight. I appreciate it."
"Anytime, it's no bother," I said casually, when in truth my body felt exhausted and in desperate need of rest. "Goodnight, Finn."
"Goodnight."
I rose my hand to wave but caught myself and kept it at my side. We stood facing each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to do or say next, until I turned to my door, imputed my passcode and went into my apartment.
*
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