Page 28 of Fake It Till You Make It
“Uh, can I think on it?”
“Absolutely, how about you sleep on it.”
“Ah, so,” Amarie lowered her voice, “I haven’t had a chance to look for a hotel.”
“Oh, that’s easy. There isn’t one.”
“Oh… what—what about a bed-and-breakfast?”
“Not one of those, either.” Amarie’d had no idea there were actually towns without guest accommodations.
“So, where do visitors stay?”
“Well,” Leah chuckled, “when there is one, they stay with family or friends. I’ll get one of the boy’s rooms ready for you.”
“Leah,” Amarie paused. “I can’t pay you until… well, I’m short on cash and options at the moment. But—but I’ll pay you back, promise.”
“That’s the thing about friends, Amarie. There’s no charge. We’re just here for one another when needed. You’re good company. And,” she sniffled, “it’s nice not to be alone.”
Amarie sighed, overwhelmed with gratitude. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems… not enough.” She tilted her head back, searching for words to express the growing sense of peace after a day heaped with turmoil.
Leah stood. “That’s good enough for me. You ready to head back?”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Amarie.” She turned at the sound of her name. It was the woman behind the bar. Leah had mentioned she’d inherited the business after her grandmother’s passing.
“Yes?”
“You have to rub your hands over the bear pelt on your way out the door. It’s a newcomer tradition. Tells everybody you’re one of us.”
Wow. A jolt of dopamine flooded Amarie with warm pleasure. It was juvenile, but today felt like the best field trip. The ones were the cool kids invited her to share their bench seat on the bus. And she got to share their cool-kid lunch. She couldn’t stop her emotions from tangling her frayed heart around today and holding on.
“You sure?”
“A friend of Leah’s is a friend of mine.”
She sniffled, on the verge of leaky tears again. “Okay.” She nodded.
Pinned to the wall was a large animal hide, rich chocolate in color with individual hairs reaching for her before she touched it. She’d never been much of a hunter-gatherer type, but there was a sense of joining a community, like she had her very own pack after years of being a lone she-wolf. Her fingers trembled as they sank into the plush fibers.
Gracie Lou raised a frosted mug. “This is Service.”
A cheer rang out and Amarie smiled at having been included. Once outside, Leah threw an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m okay.” Amarie reassured to hide the swell of emotion flooding her like a dam breaking at high tide.
“I know you are, but sometimes it’s nice to get a hug after a bad breakup.”
“How did you know?”
“Oh dear, Levi and I were married all my adult life. Love’s like a cast-iron skillet, sometimes it cooks perfectly.” She shook her head. “Other times it’s a scorched mess. I know what a woman looks like after a man has hurt her heart. Believe me, you want to run as fast and hard as you can to put distance between you and that kind of pain.”
The tears did fall then. Amarie couldn’t seem to stop them. “I don’t understand how he could throw me away,” she hiccupped, “like I never meant anything to him.”
They stopped on the bridge, listening to the trickle of water over rocks. More and more, the pain flooded her heart. Amarie gave in, pushed against the dam she’d built year after year. Her body vibrated with the sheer magnitude of all she’d endured at love’s illusion.
“It’s not fair, you know,” she turned her face to Leah, “that he stopped loving me. I know that sounds weird… crazy. But I imagine that whenever I left his sight, Russell, that’s the ex, he crammed all of me into this too-small box, so tiny that all the wonderful parts of us got buried, forgotten. Just a subtle flirt from another woman and… he forgot that he loved me. That I mattered to him. His one.” She kind of laugh-snorted at her description of six years of late-night conversations, family holidays, their birthdays.
