"I aspire to eat vegetables," sighed Brunette, in a tone that suggested she was about to be clever. "and that's the same as eating them, right?"
Redhead giggled, and provided the obligatory eye-roll. "It isn't, though."
"If you loved me, you'd support my choices." Brunette snatched an egg white and kale wrap from under the refrigerated counter top, and swanned over to the cash. There, the two women began flirting with Barista Beard-o. With their backs now to her, Amanda could no longer hear what they were saying.
They: A duet of feminine giggles.
He: A macho guffaw.
The cash register sang. Banter was exchanged as Brunette and Redhead exited, coffees in hand. Redhead backwardly waved their thanks at Beard-o, who blew them a farewell kiss.
Amanda watched the two women move down the street from her position in the corner of the shop. With snow falling around them, their long coats, and tall boots absurdly furry for the Toronto winter, they were stock photo female friendship.
She'd never had that. Someone to walk through the snow with while clutching a coffee. Forget the ride-or-die BFF that every other woman seemed to have: she'd had no awkward sister, or distant cousin, or co-worker-she-was-friends-with-because-they-couldn't-escape-each-other, either. Amanda worked in a male-dominated industry, had only her father and a younger half-brother.
Additionally, Amanda had discovered that she was the type of woman that other women instinctively take a dislike to. There were several reasons for this, her research suggested: she had found that her male colleagues generally responded to her more positively in a short skirt, so she was rarely out of one. She wore high boots to toughen up the look of the skirt, and couldn't gracefully accept – or smoothly give – a compliment. Her hair was cut in a style that suggested she was about to complain to the manager, and her eyeliner was often uneven and smudgy. She disliked all animals, and her default response to them was to flatten herself up against a wall until they'd vacated the area.
But more than all these traits, the fact that she'd never had a female friend meant that her desperation for one was pathetically palpable. Every new female acquaintance was a potential Rachel to her Monica, the prophesied bestie with whom she would share everything. Every friendly waitress, every neighbour encountered in the laundry room, every woman who stopped to ask her for directions. All were met with a smile that told them Amanda had been waiting for them all her life. As a result, most women who crossed Amanda's orbit spent the first few minutes of a conversation with her wondering if she was selling something, or about to bring up Jesus. Interestingly, Amanda had discovered that the city was full of women who had urgent phone calls to make, a boyfriend or cat waiting on them at home, or a hard-ass of a boss who was watching them from the back and who would yell at them if they paused to talk to customers for too long.
But that would change today, surely.
Over the weekend, while halfway inside a bottle of Niagara merlot, Amanda had created a profile on SaturdaySister.ca, a site that specialized in introducing women looking for platonic friendships. She had been directed to use three adjectives to describe herself, and had chosen career-driven, ambitious and practical from the available options. She'd hoped these would make her seem important and aloof, rather than... whatever she really was. Against her better judgment, she'd used a real picture of herself, carefully angled to make it look as if someone else had snapped it. She'd called herself Cass, a name she felt carried more weight than her own. And now she was waiting to meet K, the woman whose picture portrayed her in profile, poised to jump off the end of a rickety cottage dock. K wore a green tankini, auburn hair falling just past her shoulders. Someone else had taken her picture. She radiated potential, and Amanda burned to know her.
Every time the door opened, Amanda's eyes darted up and assessed: An elderly Asian couple who murmured to each other as the woman lightly brushed snow from the man's shoulder. A pair of men in work boots and layers who looked as though they'd walked from a nearby construction site. They spoke in genial voices that would have been audible over machinery, and settled at the table next to hers, comfortably claiming space. A curly haired, frumpy-looking woman entered, glanced furtively around the café and appeared to change her mind, departing the same way she'd come in.
Outside, the snow stopped.
And suddenly, there She was. Auburn hair poked out from under her close-fitted toque, which was the color of a ballet slipper. As she drifted closer, she gave off a sweet smell: vanilla or maybe sugar itself. She was everything. And She was smiling at Amanda.
"Cass?"
"Yes. Yes! So happy. I'm so happy you came!"
"I'm just grateful you're so normal-looking. Meeting on the Internet is dicey, you know? But this city is so bleak when you only go from home to job and back again."
"Ha! Ha ha. Yes. I totally agree. Obviously, since, you know, I joined the site. You...you obviously feel the same!"
"Um, yes. Yes, totally." K removed her tuque, and extended her hand. "Kelly Gaines."
Amanda weakly clasped the hand and attempted not to disintegrate into pale, horrified panic.
Because, of course. Of course it was Kelly Gaines. The voice was a little broader, the features sharper, the hair a different color. She was a woman now, but her eyes were the same, wide-set and hazel-dark. Kelly's hands, which had once firmly forced Amanda's head down a toilet, were softly manicured and betrayed no hint of mayhem.
Kelly, oblivious to the fact that Amanda had turned to stone, excused herself and went to order a coffee at the front. Amanda could only nod and fall into her chair, half expecting her old bully to turn and run at her, intent on finishing the job she'd started in their youth.
Amanda had changed schools. There'd been nightmares. Her grades had slipped. Even into high school, she'd checked all the bathroom stalls before sitting down to pee, and half feared that when she looked up from washing her hands, Kelly Gaines would be smirking in the mirror behind her.
Kelly headed back over to the table, and smiled an expansive smile.
"So, tell me about you! What do you do?"
Amanda struggled to remember. "I'm in law enforcement. Um, not a cop. I'm not a cop! But, uh, I train them in some... some aspects of their jobs... avoiding implicit bias and interacting with marginalized communities and-and that whole, um, thing."
"I bet you're good at it." Still seemingly unaware of Amanda's distress, Kelly sipped her coffee without breaking eye contact.
"Not rea- well, I guess I'm ok at it. I think sometimes they resent... resent me a bit. For... for a lot of reasons."
Kelly nodded. "Yeah, teaching cops not to stereotype sounds like a bit of a slog."
"Their jobs are hard... they need to make a lot of snap decisions." How could this woman not remember her?
"So, you train cops all day?"
"Well, I train the admin staff, too. Anyone who might come into contact with, uh, with the public, acting as a rep...representative of the force."
Was she, Amanda, really so forgettable?
There was a pause, during which Amanda was vaguely aware that she ought to ask a question in return, but Kelly only allowed a moment to go by before gamely wading in again.
"I'm an ESL teacher. At one of the schools up on Eglinton."
Kelly cocked her head to the side, something Amanda had last observed as Kelly sat astride her chest. In that moment, she had been trying decide if she wanted to continue punching, or hold Amanda's nose until she gasped for air, just for the pleasure of spitting into her mouth. In the end, she'd opted to do both.
"Is... is that fun...nice...good? Teaching?"
"Love the students. Nice people, super enthusiastic. But the business owners are clueless. Don't understand how to keep good teachers around. No benefits, bad pay. All the good ones move on. "
"How long have you been there?" The stress was unintentional. Maybe she did remember her, and this was a set-up. Amanda looked around the room, half expecting Riley, the girl who used to hold her arms back, to saunter from the shadows.
There was a pause, as Kelly seemed to chew over the implications of the question. Finally, she shrugged.
"I'm in my third year working for them. I guess I enjoy the students enough that I can turn a blind eye to the other stuff. Hey, are you ok?"
Amanda was aware that her hands were shaking. Her chest tightened.
"I.... I'm feeling a bit...." It had taken a few minutes, but the fight or flight mechanism had kicked in, and every ounce of Amanda's being had opted for flight. She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. The chai latte she'd ordered forty-five minutes ago slopped over the lip of the cup. Kelly blinked up at her, brow furrowed.
"I'm sorry, I have to go." Amanda maneuvered awkwardly round the table, aware that the construction workers next to them had stopped talking, and were now staring at them. She half ran, half tripped down the narrow aisle between tables, but caught her coat on something. Further panicking, she turned to free herself, only to realize that Kelly had the hem of her coat clenched in her extended fist.
"You are such a coward." Kelly's voice was cold.
"Please let me go."
"I knew you might recognize Jessica when she came in, but we had to know for sure that it was you."
This made no sense at all, and brought Amanda up short.
"What?"
Kelly let her coat go, and rose from her chair, her face thunderous.
"My sister had a nervous breakdown, you know. After they let her go. You treated her like garbage, and I'll never forgive you for it. I came here to tell you that in person."
Was this some sort of trick? For the first time, Amanda felt righteous anger stir inside her, and her panic receded a little.
"I honestly have no idea what you are talking about. Who the Hell is your sister?"
Kelly seethed, then smirked.
"You sad, stupid Cow. I should have known I'd have to be more specific. I'm sure she wasn't the first shy, sweet girl whose life you destroyed. You really are a bully, aren't you?"
This was too much. Amanda curled her lip and stepped forward into Kelly, indignation having trumped fear. She was only peripherally aware that all other activity in the café had ceased. She spoke slowly.
"What exactly gives you the right to call me a bully, you Monster?" Amanda's voice caught in her throat. "You ruined my childhood, sapped my confidence for years! I couldn't trust anyone, spent years in therapy!"
"The saddest part is that she looked up to you as her trainer, thought she'd made an ally in a place full of men. And then you stabbed her in the back and let them kick her to the curb. You're the worst type of woman."
"You treated me like an animal – worse! You treated me like an insect, pulled my legs off and left me writhing on my back! And then you danced on what was left of me. You are the cause of every horrible thing that has ever happened to me!"
The two women were now nose to nose, spitting freely in each other's faces. Behind the counter, one of the baristas let out a whoop of encouragement, though no one was sure whom for.
Amanda's fingers curled, claw-like. Tears of confusion and grief threatened to roll down her cheek, but she forbade them to.
"I'm brittle because of you!" she spat.
El-Beardo picked up the phone next to his register.
"My little sister is broken because of you!" Kelly snarled, her face splotched with rage.
"Monster!"
"Demon!"
Amanda let out an inarticulate scream, and pounced.
What followed would later be described by more than one witness as a Reckoning. Tables and chairs and punches were thrown, café patrons fled, or stayed to cheer the women on. A teenager near the door climbed onto a chair and began filming with his cell phone. Someone had someone else by the throat. By the time El Beard-o and one of the construction workers pulled them apart, Kelly had a black eye, and Amanda a rapidly reddening scratch down her cheek. Their coffee cups lay broken across the room, though both had missed their mark.
Kelly wrenched her arm away from the construction worker and stalked out of the café without looking back. El Beard-o let Amanda go, and she dropped down into the nearest upright chair, chest heaving. What had just happened? She felt as though she'd witnessed the fight through a window. She stared at the table, trying desperately not to make eye contact with any of the remaining patrons. Humiliation set in.
She'd had barely a moment to collect herself before Kelly was back again, scowling at her from the doorway, a wooden club in each hand.
Amanda blanched and leapt to her feet; Kelly strode forward and plunked the clubs down on their now-righted table. She pushed one toward Amanda. It was a brown paper bag, and the bottle inside looked heavy and substantial. They stared at each other. All the remaining patrons who had witnessed the brawl were on their feet, too.
After a moment, Kelly spoke. Her lip trembled, but her voice was steady.
"If you're the kid I'm remembering, I seem to recall you were a Brat who made me feel like an idiot, on purpose, every day."
The café held its breath. Amanda growled.
"If your sister is the woman I'm remembering, I seem to recall that she was fantastically bad at her job."
More silence. Kelly took a breath, and indicated the bottles on the table.
"My apartment is two blocks from here. We take these back there, drink them, and we hash this out. We hold. nothing. back."
Silence.
Amanda, who had briefly considered picking up the bottle and clocking her with it, found herself nodding instead. She gripped the bottle around its neck, and followed Kelly out into the night. Warily, the two women fell into step. Side by side, each a little wounded, each strangling their bottle.
A distant siren drifted closer on the night air.
They quickened their pace as it began to snow.