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Since those words left her mouth, my mind has been racing trying to figure out why she would say that. Why she would make excuses, try to defend someone who left her bruised and bleeding. And I hate the only viable answer I find.
A sense of defeat washes over as I slump in my seat, head falling to Kate’s shoulder. “She’s gonna take him back.”
A beat of silence passes before fingers fold around mine, squeezing as a source and in search of comfort. “I know.”
* * *
It took me days but I’ve done it.
After hours of coaxing and pleading and promising sweet treats, I got Amelia out of the house.
Claggy, damp sand sinks beneath my feet as I plod towards the sea, Amelia’s clammy hand in mine. Salty sea air soothes my lungs as I suck in a deep breath. “See?” I glance at the girl beside me, offering an encouraging smile. “Isn’t this better?”
Amelia looks skeptical. “What’re we doing here?”
I don’t reply as I drop her hand, turning to scan the long expanse of beach behind us. It’s empty this close to nightfall with such overcast weather, most people in their right mind avoiding the choppy, gray ocean.
We, on the other hand, are doing the opposite.
One more breath to steel myself and I whip my t-shirt over my head, discarding it on the sand before I can second guess myself. Wariness overcomes Amelia’s expression as her gaze darts to my barely-lace-covered chest. “What are you doing?”
Choosing silence again, I grin as I wriggle out of my skirt, a flutter of nerves erupting in my belly. I’m not much of an exhibitionist but neither is Amelia and that is exactly the point.
In nothing but my underwear, I brace my hands on my hands and pin Amelia with a no-bullshit stare. “You know, the most adventurous thing you’ve done since I’ve known you is cut your hair.”
Amelia flushes, tucking a newly shorn lock behind her ear—no prizes for guessing who insisted she keep it long because he preferred it that way. “What does that have to do with you stripping on the beach?”
“You let other people dictate your life.” One person, specifically. “You worry too much and you don’t live enough.” Unclasping my bra, I let it drop to the ground, quickly crossing my arms to cover my bare boobs before the brisk wind can assault them. “So, let's fucking live a little.”
I knew she would hesitate. I can almost see her brain cycling through all the reasons to say no. And even though the one she chooses is exactly what I expected, it still leaves me flushed with anger. “Dylan wouldn’t like it.”
Because that is still something that matters.
Because, like I knew she would, she took him back. It only took three days for the incessant phone calls and the chocolates she doesn’t even like and the shitty bouquets of roses to work. For Amelia to forgive him, welcome him back into a life and a relationship he will never deserve, and no amount of pleading on mine or Kate’s behalf could change her mind.
And the most awful part is that even though I don’t agree with her decision, I get it.
I understand what it’s like to be influenced by the fear of not being believed.
When she prods at her temple where the physical reminder of what could’ve been so much worse lives, one of Ma’s many mantras comes to mind. One that would arise whenever either of us had a particularly bad day and green tea just wasn’t cutting it, so we’d brave the nearest beach solely to spend a few hours soaking in the sea air, watching the surfers, occasionally daring the shallows.
“Saltwater cleanses.” Sweat, ocean, or tears, and the former or latter simply aren’t enough. “Now, hurry the fuck up before my nips freeze off.”
It’s almost in slow motion, the movement of Amelia’s hands towards the hem of her hoodie. They dither there for a long moment, face twisted in contemplation, before, too quick to second guess, she whips it over her head, revealing nothing underneath, her sweats quick to follow.
Before she can change her mind, I lock our hands together and take off running toward the ocean, only having to drag her a little. Our shrieks echo through the air as frigid water smacks against our shins but I keep going, even when my stomach contracts as the breath is knocked out of me. I don’t stop until each lulling wave laps at the napes of our neck, sending chills down our spines.
“What now?” Amelia yelps. Bobbing in the water, her skin is pale and her body shivers but her eyes, they’re bright. Excited. A far cry from the frail thing that’s been cowering in our apartment for the past week.
Finally, she looks alive.
Tilting my head back until it dips beneath the water, I let the cold and the silence take over. Amelia does the same, a ragged breath escaping us in unison. “Just breathe.”
* * *
I jolt awake to the sound of banging.
Blinking groggily, I sit up slowly, careful not to disturb the redhead curled up beside me, buried under a mountain of blankets. We stayed at the beach long after sunset, only leaving the water when Amelia became convinced that every shadow or stray current was a shark trying to snack on her legs. In sandy, soggy clothes, we shivered our way back to the apartment, freezing our asses off but smiling like fools.
