Page 26 of Pieces of Us

‘So,’ she continues, ‘I just wanted to call so our first proper conversation isn’t in front of everyone we know.’

Makes sense. I mean, I can already tell tomorrow is going to be a shitshow, with nosey parkers eagerly observing our every movement around each other.

‘I finally got to hug Uncle Jacob and Jas today. I really missed them.’ Guilt stabs me. If it wasn’t for me, she would have gotten the chance to see Jas grow up. They both love her so much, and I ruined their connections all these years.

‘Amity—’ She doesn’t let me finish my thought.

‘I am willing to put the past behind us, but that doesn’t mean we are ever going to be anything more than cordial. We’re not friends.’

My heart sinks at her words. ‘I wasn’t expecting us to be,’ I sulk dejectedly.

‘I just want us to coexist. Be in the same room without throwing daggers at each other. I’m sticking around for a while. I’ll be at the office more and hanging out with Jas. We are bound to see each other.’

‘I get it.’

‘I know you’ve stayed away since senior year.’ She draws a breath. ‘But one of us needed to break the ice.’

‘I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me,’ I interrupt.

‘I didn’t. You’re right.’ It’s delivered so bluntly, I’m taken aback. ‘But it’s been years, and I am a big part of your dad and Jas’ lives, whether you accept that or not. I don’t want them to tiptoe around me anymore when you come up.’

I swallow the golf ball lump in my throat. ‘I don’t either.’ I’m rendered to a few words, unable to pour my heart out like I want to.

‘So…’ she says tentatively. ‘I will see you tomorrow. Please respect my space, but be civil with me.’ She lays down the firm law.

‘I hear you, Amity. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’ There’s no wriggle room with her, so I give up without even trying.

‘Great.’

Silence follows after she hangs up, not even giving me a chance to say goodbye. I stare at my home screen, unbelieving of the fact that I just had my first conversation with Amity in years.

Chapter 13

What I’ve Done

Amity

I walk up the front steps of the Hayes residence, my arms laden with a tropical fruit platter and chocolate pavlova that I prepared earlier this morning. I am a little late, thanks to my meeting with my manager over the lingerie samples, the new range of teas coming out in December—just in time for Christmas and winter—as well as rearranging my schedule so I could stay with Dad a bit longer. I decided to FaceTime Mum in Paris for a pep talk before I made my way over here. I also procrastinated on my outfit choice. For a long time.

When I woke up this morning, I realised I haven’t been to this home since that day, and I didn’t think I’d ever step foot in here again. Uncle Jacob and Jas accommodated me back in year twelve so I didn’t have to be near the property where my heart was blasted to pieces.

I was nervous, but I really have no reason to be. Dad is already here after hitching a ride with Lily, along with our other friends and their parents. We are a tight-knit cohort, so of course our parents stayed friends after thirteen years of schooling. I also know the majority of the Hayes family—apart from the new partners of kids, since I left all those years ago.

My plan is clear and concise.

I will see him, wave, give a polite smile and maybe even a quick hello, then beeline for my people, avoiding him for the rest of the afternoon. All I need to do is put on my Bras and Stars persona and act aloof, like everything is better than fine between us.

It is a known policy to just let ourselves in at the Hayes home, so there’s no need for me to ring the bell. Turning the polished handle, I’m relieved to find the air conditioner is blasting in this unbearable humidity.

Nostalgia and bittersweet memories encapsulate me as I take in the familiar surroundings. The home is exquisite, as expected with Uncle Jacob being an architect, but it’s the homely feel that stirs flutters inside me. I’m everywhere. My pictures still adorn the walls, and photos of me growing up beside Linc are lined up on the mantel. I’m touched that Uncle Jacob still sees me as one of his own.

As I travel through the hallway, I can hear the beats of eighties and nineties emo rock playing. Speakers and a state-of-the-art entertainment suite have long been a prominent feature in the backyard, which we often took advantage of when we were younger.

Entering the kitchen, I can see Lily fishing a beer out of the fridge for Dad, who’s rolling around. Lily is a nurse, so if anyone is going to know the ins and outs of patient care, it’s her. They both got sick of waiting for me earlier, so they ditched me and came together. A few other familiar faces are milling around too. Lara—Lily’s mum, Uncle Jacob’s brother, Jack, and his wife, Jill. I wish I was kidding with the names, but I’m not. In my head, whenever I see them, I repeat the nursery rhyme. Plastering on my social face, I go to greet everyone.

‘Honey!’ Dad cries in elation, as if he hasn’t been hovering over me all night and morning in case I have a mental breakdown.

Everyone in the vicinity turns to stare at me, which I’m used to. These days, I’m as famous as Ellen De Generes, Ryan Seacrest, Catt Sadler or Giuliana Rancic. Teens as young as thirteen and adults as old as fifty or so often do a double take and gawk at me. Especially if I am in a bikini. I’ve had many stop to take a photo with me or ask for a video. It is the perils of having the high-profile job that I do. I am conscious of my image. Not just physically, but in the manner I hold myself. One wrong word, dirty look or rude outburst can wipe me off the map.

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