Saving Amy (33 page)

Hmm,
sounded simple enough.

“Wait, we didn’t choose a dress,” I suddenly remembered as we turned to the door.

“Would you be annoyed if I told you that’s not really why I asked you up here?” Vivienne replied with her hands outstretched in the praying position. I giggled and shook my head.

“I actually thought as much,” I admitted with a coy smile and then she took my hand and led me towards the grand, spiral staircase.

Back in the car on our way home Richard eyed me up curiously, flipping his gaze between
me and the road
. I pretended not to notice and rested my head against the window, admiring the night sky closing in on us.

“What did my mom want you for?” he asked sceptically.

Shit… a direct question.

“To choose a dress, remember?” I lied, keeping my eyes on the stars illuminating the black sky and trying to keep my dishonest voice even. Even though I wasn’t looking at him I could almost feel his incredulous eyebrow rising.

“Amy, my mother
never
chooses her own clothes. She pays a young stylist named Gino a small fortune for that privilege.”

Damn.

“
So
, come on… what did she want with you?”
Ah, shit…
Bossy Doctor had arrived which basically meant I was screwed.

“She wanted to talk about…
you
,” I admitted, the word ‘you’ sticking to my lips.

“Oh
really
? And what about
me
?”

“Not just you… us. She’s just looking out for her little boy, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded angry. “She didn’t upset you did she?”

“Of course not! Richard, your mother is adorable. I doubt she could ever upset me,” I assured and meant every word. “In fact, she thinks I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” I said smugly, teasingly, even though I didn’t believe it.

“That’s because you are,” he answered seriously, not a trace of the playful tone I used on him.

I purposely omitted the whole ‘Joanna’ part of our conversation, deciding that was something I just didn’t have the emotional strength to discuss tonight. Besides, in reality there was probably no point – I doubted Richard would have a single word said against the psycho bitch.

“How are the arms?” Richard asked carefully. For a brief second I wondered what the hell he was on about, but then the whole lot came crashing down on top of me and I felt like I was trapped inside a building being demolished – my dad, the fear, scrabbling my arms to shreds…

“They’re okay. A little sore I guess.” I ran my finger under my sleeve, tracing the coarse, dried-up lesions. I made the mistake of wincing and of course Richard noticed.

“I’ll check them over when we get home.”

“Okay,” I said, too tired to tell him he was worrying unnecessarily. Not that he’d have taken a blind bit of notice if I had.

Back at the apartment I was sitting on the corner suite with my arms caked in some kind of foul smelling ointment with a long complicated medical name. Richard was in the kitchen making hot chocolate and my eyes revelled in the sight of his delicious half-naked body (dressed only in grey sweat pants and Armani cologne) gliding gracefully between the stove and the cupboards.

A few clinks and tinkles later Richard walked towards me with two steady hands holding tall white mugs in front of him. He handed me my mug and lowered himself down beside me. I smiled warmly when I noticed he’d decorated it with marshmallows arranged into the shape of a heart. The mug burned my fingers, letting me know it was too hot to drink right away so I set it down on the coffee table to cool down. Richard copied, and then stretched his arms out, cocking his head for me to lean into them.

I eagerly shuffled closer to him so the edges of our thighs were pressed tightly together, then I nestled my cheek against his warm, bare chest and he wrapped his arm behind my back, stroking it gently. My heavy eyes couldn’t seem to stop themselves from closing (not that I tried very hard) and I found myself drifting off to the harmonious thrum of his heart beating beneath my ear.

Then it came… an ill-timed beep crashing unwelcome into the silent air. The high-pitched ding physically crawled under my skin, itching as it skittered its way around my nervous system. I was seriously beginning to doubt my sanity. A cell phone notification tone should
not
have been able to rile me that much.

I decided to put my cunning master plan into action – it was now or never. Richard shifted in his seat and peered down to see if I was asleep. I smiled at him (although it was a little forced) and then sat up. He didn’t reach for his cell straight away and I wondered if this was intentional – to throw me off the scent so to speak. He caved (curiosity getting the better of him) after eighty-three seconds. Yes, the whole thing had sent me so crazy I actually counted.

Right, here goes nothing…

“Who’s that?” I asked, aiming for nonchalance and hoping I pulled it off. My heart was racing in anticipation. Vivienne’s words echoed in my mind, ‘he won’t lie to you’. I guessed I was about to find out.

An
expression which could only be interpreted as ‘oh shit’
descended on his beautiful face.

“It’s just Joanna,” he muttered under his breath as if he was hoping I wouldn’t hear.

Don’t overreact. Don’t overreact. Don’t overreact.

“She’s my
friend
, Amy,” Richard rationalised with a don’t-start-Amy glint in his eye.

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

How the hell does he know?

“No I wasn’t!” I protested (
lied
) through pouting lips. He ambled back over to me and reclaimed his seat on the couch.

“
Amy,
” he said in a condescending tone before brushing a finger over my lips. “These beautiful, sulking lips come out to play whenever my cell rings lately.”

Shit… he’s noticed.

“I’m not blind, you know. But, Joanna and me have always spoken a lot, that’s just how we are. We’re friends.” He shrugged his shoulders as he tried to justify their outlandish ‘friendship’.

“Even after what she did to you?”

Oh fuck,
the words left my mouth before my brain had chance to process them.

“Oh, I see now.”
Crap.
He was pissed. He was rubbing his forearm as he stood from his seat like he couldn’t bear to be near me. “I bet my mother couldn’t wait to fill you in.” He turned away from me and my heart flopped out of my mouth.

“It wasn’t like that. Richard, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” He turned back around, his expression softening. “I can’t help it. I guess I’m just…
jealous
.” Yep, I’d just admitted what a possessive crazy bitch I was out loud. An amused smile started to play around the edges of Richard’s plump, velvety lips.

“Are you laughing at me?” I mock scolded, the tense atmosphere dissipating by the second.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said in a low, masculine voice – trying but failing to sound serious. We both caved and gave in to the fits of laughter bubbling up through our throats. Then Richard perched next to me, taking my face in his hands and turning the atmosphere from carefree to staid just by looking at me.

“I know what she did to me-”

“Richard, you don’t have to explain,” I said, talking over him. He placed a finger over my lips, cutting me off.

“Yes, I do.
Because you are the one person who deserves to know
everything
about me.
I’ll never forget what she did, but I
had
to forgive her. Living with so much hate inside of you is just… soul destroying.” He dropped his hands from my face and took my hands, entwining our fingers together.

“We’re just friends, Amy. You on the other hand are
everything
to me. Understand?” I blushed crimson and smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

“What for?” he asked, seeming genuinely confounded.

“For being a bunny boiling psycho of a girlfriend,” I breathed, biting my tongue to stop a smile escaping. He manoeuvred his face in front of mine so we were nose-to-nose and I had no choice but to fall into his hypnotic green eyes.

“Well, you’re my bunny boiling psycho. Got it?” And then he smiled his breath-taking smile – the one that turned my insides to mush.

I leaned forward and squeezed him close to me, but then I scuffed my grazed arm on the edge of the couch and the day’s events came flooding back to me… drowning me. I started to cry.

“You’re exhausted. You have coped amazingly well today. I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into my hair, stroking my back and trying to shush the tears away. “But you’ve been through so much. Let’s get you to bed. You need to rest,” Bossy Doctor ordered and I willingly obeyed and followed him to the bedroom.

V
anessa insisted I take a week’s leave to ‘recover’ from my ordeal. I agreed immediately. Whenever I pictured the office I couldn’t seem to shake the image of my dad standing in the shadows with his sinister blue eyes, waiting to get me alone. I flinched at the thought. I knew I couldn’t hide forever of course. Today was Friday, which meant I only had the weekend to try and rid myself of this sickening fear bubbling away inside me, ripping through my dreams and cursing my every waking thought.

The pain, the anxiety, was worse when I was alone. Richard possessed an almost supernatural ability to distract my mind, to make me feel safe. The hours passed impossibly slowly while he was at the hospital and as yet I’d not been able to summon enough courage to leave the apartment, consumed with some irrational fear that my dad will be waiting for me on the other side.

I picked up my cell in an effort to distract myself from thinking. Bejewelled Blitz was always a guaranteed escape. There was a text waiting for me when I unlocked the screen.

Rob: How’s it going Aims? Hope
ur
ok. The Dragon must ask me 50 times a day how ur doin so hurry up n get ur ass back here so I don’t hav to deal with her! Missing u at lunch times.

I smiled while I pondered my reply. Rob had sent me a handful of similar texts over the course of the week, reaffirming my opinion that he was a great guy and a great friend.

Me: I’m good. B Back Monday - Big Mac’s on me! X

I caught every ten minutes pass on the pendulum clock. It was now only three hours and eighteen minutes until Richard was due home. Then I could breathe again. I felt as excited as a child on Christmas knowing he would be by my side for a whole day tomorrow. Or at least, how I
imagined
a child was supposed to feel on Christmas Eve. For me, it had always been ‘just another day’.

My heart started to flutter as I allowed myself to wonder what
this
Christmas would be like.
My first Christmas with Richard.
My first Christmas without the threat of arguments or beatings.
My first Christmas with an actual Christmas tree.
In effect… my first Christmas.

Of course we had Thanksgiving first. It was only five weeks away and Vivienne had everything planned right down to the colour of the napkins. According to Richard, Thanksgiving was a
huge
affair for the Lewis clan with Vivienne and Alistair opening their home to friends and family far and near, colleagues and even Finding Hope beneficiaries with nowhere else to go. I sighed heavily as I struggled to summon the enthusiasm I knew I should be feeling for my first festive season. I decided to put it out of my mind for now. Who knew how I’d feel in five weeks time.

Miserable
as
ever…
Oh, fuck off.

Still in my pink satin pyjamas I lay down on the four-seater, curled myself into the foetal position and buried my head in the soft leather. I closed my
eyes which
were puffy from too much sleep and even more crying. Sleep made time pass more quickly you see and so hopefully, if I could sleep away another two hours and forty-three minutes, then Richard would be home.

I’d barely closed my eyes when the sound of the door latch springing open startled them open. I was momentarily paralysed – frozen to the leather. My dad’s malevolent eyes were etched onto my eyelids, making my eyes sting because I was too afraid to blink. The door slammed closed and my heart leapt up into my throat, choking me.

No!
I screamed inwardly and leapt defiantly off the couch, refusing to lie there scared and helpless, allowing him to finish what he started. I ran on my tiptoes to the kitchen, picking up a crystal vase along the way, although I wasn’t sure what I intended to do with it. Then I crouched down behind the glossy white island and waited for my attacker.

Thumping footsteps grew louder and louder, closing in on me. The vibration of each thud rattled through my petrified body as a tall, menacing silhouette glided eerily slowly across the wall until it stopped in front of me. Taking a deep breath I squeezed my eyes shut, catapulted to my feet and blindly threw the vase in the direction of the shadow.

A jarring smash followed and I screamed all traces of air out of my lungs.

“Get away from me!” Strong hands weighed my shoulders down and I flung my arms in the air preparing to beat the living crap out of my assailant.