<—Part 11
Amy scrubbed out a tumbler, enjoying the steady stream of nearly too-hot water coming from the cafe’s sink. Days later, she was still glowing with excitement, replaying in her head the events from the very short-lived seance. And even crazier — the journal entry!
Those girls hadn’t seen a ghost; they had seen her! Wait—! Amy nearly dropped the glass in her hand. Did that mean she was a ghost? No. She would know if she were dead. Wouldn’t she?
“Hey…” the voice was carefully neutral, but uncertainty cracked the greeting into a higher pitch.
Amy blinked and actually did drop the glass in the sink. It clunked loudly against the stainless steel, but luckily didn’t shatter. Hastily shutting the water off, she grabbed a kitchen towel and started blotting her hands dry as she looked up to meet Violet’s gaze.
Her initially response was more of a coughed squeak, and she flushed bright red before clearing her throat and trying again. “Hi.” It didn’t seem to ease the awkwardness.
“The other day—” Vi paused, mouth twisting uncertainly before she continued. “It seemed like you wanted to speak to me..?”
Amy’s eyes widened, and she had to make a conscious effort not to jump up and down in what would have probably been entirely uncalled for enthusiasm. A dozen things flew through her mind, about Pompeii’s Parlor, the newest romance novel she’d started reading, about the sappy movie that just came out. It all fell away as words tumbled out in a rush.
“I’m sorry! About everything! For being so horrid. So stupid. For not listening to you when you told me to stop pushing! If I could take it back, I would but I know I can’t and I know you could never forgive me and I miss you so much and …” she inhaled, pausing as she realized how crazy she sounded, blurting everything out.
Violet looked stunned, and seemed to be struggling for a response, as Amy continued in a rush of hurried words.
“…And there’s a ghost next door only its not a ghost. I’m the ghost, only I’m not the ghost either, but we saw each other during the seance, and it wasn’t complete because I really needed you, but I ruined everything, and how could I ever deserve your friendship after that much less your help in Pompeii’s Parlor?”
Violet blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked posed on the verge of running away, struggling to process Amy’s jumbled stream of consciousness unloading.
Amy clapped her hands over her mouth, horrified. Unfortunately, she also still held the kitchen towel in hand, and the result was she wound up whipping her own face with a damp rag. When she squeaked indignantly, dropping the towel, Violet actually laughed.
The sound seemed to have broken the months-long tension between the two women, and Amy was able to meet her eyes without flinching away in shame. She still felt awful, gnawing shame for her unwitting part in Vi’s kidnapping, but she could finally meet her gaze.
“I’ll be honest—” Violet spoke carefully, aware of how tenuous the situation was. “—I’m not sure I can forget or forgive yet. Or at all. But… I don’t know. I’m willing to hash that out. Just, maybe not now. I need more time, I think.”
Amy nodded, doing her utmost to contain the emptiness inside.
“That said..” And her tone rose with genuine confusion and curiosity, “What do you mean: ghost, seance, Pompeii’s Parlor?”
Amy slumped, not with defeat, but with a deep sense of relief. She might never have her friend back, but this? This she could share.
“Could I maybe tell you over lunch?” The moment the words were out, Amy clamped her mouth shut in remembered horror. Lunch had been what she used last time to lure Violet to what she’d thought would be an enlightened meeting with a genuine psychic.
Violet’s eye narrowed a little. Clearly she remembered the details quite well. But, before Amy could take back the offer, or apologize again, the tension around Violet’s eyes eased.
“How about tea? Here. You’re due for a break, right?” The tone was oddly gentle, and Amy felt her vision blur with the beginnings of tears, knowing full well she didn’t deserve the kindness. All the same, she nodded and then ducked her head to keep Violet from seeing her cry.
Violet scrubbed a hand through her blonde pixie cut and shrugged awkwardly. Neither woman seemed to know quite how to transition forward at that point. Violet took the lead, stepping away from the counter.
“Alright. I’m going to hit the bathroom real quick. Make me a chai latte, will you?”
Amy, overwhelmed, could only nod again. She watched in incredulous disbelief as Violet head to the restroom, and it was a full minute before she could snap herself back to some semblance of functionality.
Shakily picking up the fallen kitchen towel, she made her way to the tea supplies and started plucking out the things she would need.
The End.
(Until Book 2: Grounded)