Before backing out of the driveway, I reach toward the radio to find a station for some music. As soon as my hand touches the knob Amelia slaps it away. "What the hell?"
"No music on the drive there. Remember? It's time for twenty questions." A conspiratorial grin takes over her face.
My head snaps back. "I thought you were just kidding about that."
She moves her hand in a circular motion telling me to get the car moving. "No such luck. You are supposed to be my best friend now, and I didn't even know you had a tattoo. I think in order for us to be on a true bestie level we need to know more about one another."
Putting the car in reverse I grown. "Do we really have to?" The glare she shoots me is all the answer I need. "What do you want to know?"
She taps her silver painted fingernail against her chin. "Hmmm, so many things. The most pressing matter, what is your favorite color?"
A smirk forms on my lips. Out of all the things she could ask me about, the first thing that pops out of her mouth is my favorite color. I stay quiet for a moment, keeping her in suspense, as if my answer could change the world. "Blue."
"Just blue? No specific shade?"
"No. Just blue." I turn on the blinker before merging onto the highway, our tiny town disappearing in the rearview mirror. "What else do you have for me?"
"Let's see." She stares out the window at the cars passing by for a few seconds before continuing, "What's your favorite food?"
"Tacos, hands down." She nods in agreement.
I notice brake lights up ahead and ease off the gas to begin slowing down. "What was your first job?"
"I've only ever worked at the hardware store. So, I guess I'm still at my first job, with a small break when I went away for college."
"Why aren't you at college now?" Traffic has come to a complete stop, and there is nothing I can do to change the direction of our conversation. It would be nice to talk to somebody about it. My biggest worry is that she'll see how dysfunctional my family life is and will be done with me. Friendship, and anything else I had hoped for will be gone.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Amelia nods when I glance over at her. I let out a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "My dad has a drinking problem, and he'll get so far behind on his bills that he can't even make rent most months. Our landlord sent me a copy of the eviction notice he put on the door while I was at school, and told me unless Dad could come up with the rent by a certain date then he was going to have to kick him out."
The cars in front of me begin picking up speed and I take a quick peek at Amelia's reaction before I press on the gas. She's not running away screaming, so that's a plus. Not like she has much of a choice since we are on the highway, but it's reassuring that she doesn't have a horror-stricken expression on her face. "After I got that, I knew I couldn't stay there and leave him without a place to go. He may be a complete asshole most days. He’s still my dad. I withdrew from all of my classes and came home to work."
Her hand slips into my own. "Where was your mom during all of this?"
That’s something I would like to know as well. If it wasn't forher,we wouldn't have the issues that we do. We’d still be a family, and I wouldn’t be terrified to let people in. "I don't know. She left us when I was around six because she didn't want a family anymore."
"Oh, Randall. I am so sorry." She sniffles as if she's crying. And when I look at her, a tear is streaming down her cheek.
"Don't cry, Amelia.” I lift our joined hands to wipe the wetness away. "It happened a long time ago. And, as much as I wish I could go back to college it's just not in the cards right now. I’ll be free one day, but until that day comes, I’ll hope my dad will actually grow up and be a parent.”
“That’s something,” Amelia’s breath hitches, “no child should ever have to deal with. It’s not fair to you. Did you even have a childhood?”
“Not really. I’m used to it, though.” I squeeze her hand one last time before taking the exit toward Life in Ink. “It won’t always be like this, and I’m lucky to have friends, especially new ones, by my side.”
She pulls her hand out of mine, and crosses her arms over her chest. “It still pisses me off for you.”
Changing topics while looking for a place to park, I ask, “Will you tell me what you’re getting?”
A small smile curves her lips. “No. You’ll have to wait to see the finished product.”
Luckily there’s a space in the lot next door to the tattoo shop, and I whip in before anyone else beats me to it. “Well, I guess we better go in and find out.”
“Let’s go,” she shouts into the small space. She gets out of the car before I have a chance to get to the other side to open the door for her. “I’m so excited.”
She may be, but I see the nerves in the slight shake of her fingers. I’m not going to attempt to change her mind, though. Instead, I’ll hold her hand through whatever pain she feels.
Nine
Amelia