Amelia sighs. “As much as I don’t want to forgive you, Keaton, I do. Holding onto my anger towards you is only going to hurt Charlie because she’ll eventually feel she’ll have to choose between us. I’ll always remember what you did, though, and how easy it was for you do it to her.”
“Fair enough.” The aroma of hot cheddar cheese sauce and fries has my mouth watering as I lift a fry to it. “I never expected your forgiveness, Mel. Just knew I owed you an apology. I should have given it to you before now, but I wasn’t in the headspace to focus on myself, Charlie, and anyone else.”
“That’s a good thing because I wouldn’t have forgiven you before now, anyway.”
Our conversation fades as we eat.
Something’s changed in Amelia. The fire she’s always had is still there, but it’s dimmer now, like someone tried to snuff it out. It still simmers beneath the surface, but now there’s a bitterness clinging to its edges.
I haven’t spent much time with David lately. We’re not on the same wavelength anymore. Last I heard, he and Amelia had something going on, but Charlie never brings them up, and I’m too afraid to ask. I don’t want to hear it’s not my business anymore.
“You doing okay, Mel?”
My quiet question snaps her out of her thoughts, and for a split second, I see the pain she tries to hide. She covers it quickly with a practiced, plastic smile.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shake my head, pop another fry in my mouth, and wash it down with water. “I’m here if you need anything.”
Amelia studies me, and I focus on my fries, giving her space to find whatever she’s looking for.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says gruffly.
Surprisingly, we manage to talk without the past poisoning every word.
It’s not deep, not even close to what we had before I screwed everything up.
But it’s a start. A shaky first step toward rebuilding the friendship I broke.
I Don't Think He'll Punch You
Charlie
Bythetimeourparents arrive, I’m convinced Keaton will have worn holes straight through my carpet. He’s been pacing nonstop since the clock struck twenty minutes to go, ricocheting from room to room. My head throbs just watching him.
I told him we should have had this first meeting in a public place, but he was quick to veto that idea. He wants them to feel comfortable enough to let their truth flow without fear of reprisal.
Keaton jerks to a stop in front of me, his face ashen, his eyes panicked. He lifts a finger in my direction. “You should really do an internet search on how to remove bloodstains from carpet. It’s going to be helpful.”
I laugh and climb to my feet. “What? Why do I need to know that?”
“Because,” he stresses the word. “Your dad is going to beat the hell out of me, and it’ll be messy. I mean, not that I blame him.”
And just like that, he’s off again, pacing as if the floor might swallow him whole.
“I really don’t. I’d do the same thing if some punk cheated on our daughter and broke her to pieces. I’m a fucking hypocrite, I know,” he rambles cutely, nodding with his words.
Seeing Keaton like this is strangely endearing. He’s letting me glimpse a side of him he’s always kept hidden, letting his guard down in a way he never used to.
After months of him holding me up, I finally get to return the favor.
I close the gap between us and catch him mid-lap, halting his anxious circuit around my living room.
“Keaton, stop.” I curl my hands around his cheeks and hold his face still. “Slow down and just breathe. No matter what happens, everything will be fine.”
“Yep. Right after your dad makes me bleed a little bit.”
“I don’t think he’ll punch you.”
