Chapter 173 Bestest friend

Chapter 173 Bestest friend
I pace in front of Amelia’s parents house. I lied. Ten days is too long to wait. Did she really expect me to stay away for that long? 
The sound of a hiccup draws my attention to my son sleeping in the baby carrier slung to my chest. Even his hiccups sound cute. Still asleep, he suckles the air. I brush the tip of his nose with my pinky finger, and he pouts. I might have brought him as a peace offering. Amelia can’t be mad if she sees her godson. 
That thought lends me courage to knock for the first time. I’ve been here for ten minutes. But when the door opens, I plaster a fake smile and act like I just got here.
“Hey, Cathy.” Ashley steps out. Her face is tired, and she has aged since the last time I saw her. She sizes me up. “You look weird.” 
“It’s the makeup,” I exclaim. It’s not only the makeup. It’s my entire appearance. I’m also not used to it. She hums in reply. “Is Amelia home?” I ask to change the conversation. 
“Yes.” As if struck by a thought, Ashley laughs. “What are you doing here? She said you wouldn’t be here until next week.” 
“I couldn’t wait,” I confess. 
“It’s okay. She needs you even if she won’t admit it,” she murmurs. For a brief second, her weaknesses and fears dance across her face but she tucks them behind a smile. Ashley steps into the house and opens the door wider for us to come in. “She’s in her room.” 
She smiles at Mace. I offer her a tight smile and hurry up the stairs as fast as I can.
I hesitate in front of Amelia’s room but the quiet sobs emitting from there pushes me to open the door. We haven’t spoken since the last call. She didn’t pick when I called earlier before leaving London. What do you honestly say to someone who is about to die? I have no idea, but I will give her my presence. It’s worth more than words. This life sucks. It gives, then it takes. It gave me Mace, and now, it wants to take Amelia.
“Amelia?” I call out but my voice is a little lower than a whisper. 
I knock once to announce my presence, then push the door to Amelia’s room open. My heart jumps to my throat at the sight of the empty bed. But another sob draws my attention to the figure seated at the foot of the bed. I rush over and sit beside her.
“Hey,” Amelia says when she notices me. Her lips turn up in a smile. “Hey, Macey.” 
“He’s asleep,” I say. But I’m already edging towards her so she can pet him. She runs her fingers through his curls. “He crawled.” 
I drop my son on the bed and bring out my phone to show her the videos and pictures. Amelia’s hand wobbles as she collects the phone. We don’t talk about her eyes that must be red and swollen from crying or her baldness. I bridge the tiny gap between us and her head lowers to my shoulder. My arm slides around her tiny waist. We laugh but the contact makes me stronger. 
“Are you mad that I came here?” I whisper.
“Truth?” 
“Truth,” I reply.
“I was hoping you would show up before Saturday,” Amelia says. She lifts her head but her smile fades when she takes another look at me. She squints. I try to shake off her stare but she curls her fingers around the synthetic hair flowing down my baseball cap. “You look different. What is this, Cathy?” 
Amelia tugs on the hair and the cap slides off my scalp. I got it really cheap. It’s a cap with hair extensions sewn into it to give the impression of real hair. It’s good for a bad hair day or bald days. Shock spreads over my best friend’s face. She uses both hands to cover her mouth and I fear I made a huge mistake by shaving off my hair.
“Cathy,” she gasps out.
“Ta-da!” I say. “Surprise!” 
Amelia’s lip trembles. Tears roll down her cheeks, and I panic. I bite the inside of my lips. I wanted to make her happy, to let her know it’s just hair. Who needs hair? 
“Sorry,” I cry. Her fingers run over my scalp. It has been so long since I felt this much air on my scalp. It’s different. It’s weird. It’s for Amelia. Amelia kneels and places a kiss on my scalp. I dry my cheeks. “You like it?” 
“You look like a ghost,” Amelia comments.
But there’s more hope in her voice than when I walked in. I hug her, hiding my face in her shoulders. Seconds later, she pulls away from the hug, and I clean off the dark lines that should be in the spot of my real eyebrows. I also shaved them. Amelia sighs. Tears roll down the corners of her eyes as she shakes her head. Now, we look similar.
“We can look like ghosts together,” I say.
“You didn’t have to do any of that,” she whispers. 
“I needed to. We are in this together.” 
“You’re going to make me cry,” she says. 
I fan my face with one hand. “That’s okay.” 
Amelia says nothing for a while, but her happiness radiates off her and creeps into me. I place my hand in the space between us and she slides her fingers into mine.
“I wish I didn’t have to die,” she mutters. I want to refute her statement, but it’s not about me. She needs to vent, and I’m here to make her feel better. “Do you think I’m a good person? I don’t think I’m a good person. If I was, I wouldn’t be so unlucky.”
“I don’t think it’s because of that,” I reply. I release my grip on her hand to let blood flow. “I think it’s because God sucks. When you get to heaven, you have to kick his ass.”
Amelia laughs. “You cannot treat me like the others do, okay? They act like I’m so sick, and I know I am, but it will be nice to be treated normally. Mum’s worse. You have to treat me like I’m still your best friend.” 
“Of course, you’ll always be my best friend.” 
When I notice Amelia struggling to stand, I help her up. It will be tough for us to treat her normally when we are reminded about the little things she can no longer do on her own. We make it to the bed. Mace doesn’t stir as we climb in, leaving him in our middle.

Her walls hold memories of us in the form of portraits. I don’t know if I’ll be able to enter this room when she’s gone. 
“Sometimes, I’ve thought about ending it myself. But that would be selfish,” she whispers.
Tears cling to my lashes. I hate what’s happening with my best friend but I’ll hate it even more if she decides to leave that way. Then again, this is not about me.
Amelia takes one of Mace’s hands. My head burrows into the pillow we are sharing and my fingers trace a love shape on her scalp. 
“Do you want to take a picture?” she asks. 
I laugh. “Yeah.” 
We take different pictures. Her smile never fades and my lips eventually loosen up. 
“Where’s Jason?” I ask. “Does he know?” 
Amelia nods. “I told him not to tell you.” My frown doesn’t last a second. She sits up without my help, and I mimic her position. “You would have panicked, Cathy. You know how you are about these things.” As anyone in their right mind would be. Anyone who loves their friend will be upset. She puts out her hand. “I don’t want you to be sad.” 
But I’m already sad. I’ll always be sad.
“It’s okay. I understand. It’s not about me.” 
I turn my body towards her and cross my legs. “Is Jason like your boyfriend now?” 
“It would be unfair to him,” she says, her eyes on my son. “I won’t be here for long.” 
I don’t say a word to that. But I don’t miss the bitterness laced in her reply. I would be bitter if it was me. I wouldn’t laugh. I’ll lock myself up and mourn my life, or the upcoming demise of it. I’ll be mad at everyone—living and healthy beings.
“I know that he loves me back, but it would be evil of me. Why put him through that?” 
“Why don’t you let him decide that?” I say.
Amelia’s tear-filled eyes connect with mine. I wipe the tears on her cheek with the back of my hand. “He’s going to say yes. He’s an idiot.” 
“Your idiot,” I correct. 
Love is stupid. Love is wicked. It heals as much as it hurts. And it feels so good with the right person. It’s like chips in ice-cream. Until it’s not.
“My idiot. Yes.” 
“I think you should stop worrying so much about it. Make more memories with him.” 
I nearly choke on my words. But she nods along. My chest tightens. I push past the lump in my throat and take her hands. I came here to make her feel better, not cry. I can do it.
“Yeah? It sucks though,” she says. 
I can admit this. “Very. Greatly. A lot.” 
We laugh. It almost feels normal again. 
“A whole fucking lot,” Amelia mutters. 
Silence falls over us, except for Mace soft inhale and exhale, the place is calm. Amelia draws random shapes on the pillow. When she sighs a second time, I place a hand over hers.
“If I agree to be his girlfriend,” she says without meeting my gaze. “Do you promise to call Mr Dissick and send those emails?” 
“I already tried,” I tell her. “The email did not deliver. I think he may have disabled his email address. His number never connects.” 
“Did you try with another email or number? It might have been a network issue.” I shake my head. Knowing how I responded to him at the pub, I didn’t think it was caused by the network. “Should we try with mine?” 
“Amelia,” I start. She points at her phone on the bedside drawer and I have no choice but to retrieve it. I know the numbers and email off hand. “I saw him and I panicked.” 
“You saw him?” I nod. “Where?” 
“The pub,” I reply. I wring my fingers at a lack of words. “Jason didn’t get to perform because of me. Calum came out of nowhere and he hugged me. He just...” 
I breathe slowly to let out the anger. I have been lying to myself. I’m pissed. I’m furious at that man. I want him to always be in pain.
“Do you still want to try him on my phone?” 
Because it’s almost impossible to say no to her, I nod. We call him first but the results are the same. The email is no different.
“He’s a fool,” Amelia comments. I agree. She reaches for my cheek and grins. I smile. “You are the bestest friend in the world.” 
“There’s nothing like bestest friend.”
“There is. And it’s you, Cathy.” 
I kiss her cheeks and drape an arm over her waist. Somehow, we make it work with my son in the middle. She’s my bestest friend in the world.