Page 54 of Full Court Crush
Hey, how’re you today?
I hope work is going well. I’m just hanging around the house with Dad.
Plus a few basketball memes, and then:
I’m going for a run tomorrow morning, if you wanted to join me? No worries if you’re busy x
Amelia stared at the ‘x’ on the end of the message. That’s new. She typed up a quick reply:
Sorry, it’s been a day, and I didn’t realise I’d left my phone on do not disturb. I’m working tomorrow otherwise I would have joined you.
She hesitated, hovering thumb over the ‘x’. She only ever put ‘x’s on her texts to Evie and TJ, and it felt weird doing it with someone else. But she shrugged and thought about how she didn’t usually sleep with teammates, either, and added three ‘x’s before she put her phone back in her pocket. Returning to the living room with drinks for her friends, she found Evie and TJ cuddled together on the sofa. TJ gently stroked Evie’s arm.
Amelia felt a sudden pang of jealousy. It had been a while since she’d been in a relationship, but she couldn’t remember anyone else holding her like that. Not until Keira, anyway. She missed the simple things about being in a relationship: not rattling around the house on her own, making morning coffee for two, having someone to kiss goodnight. She thought about how nice it would be to kiss Keira goodnight every night.
“You alright there, pipsqueak?” TJ said. She looked up to see his gaze on her.
“Yeah, fine.” She handed them their drinks and settled back onto the single seat.
An hour and a half later, full to the brim with delicious Indian food, Evie was practically falling asleep on the sofa. TJ gently shepherded her towards the door, wishing Amelia good night. She locked the door behind them and leant against the hallway wall, tilting her head back with a sigh. It had been a very long day. Her phone burned in her pocket, reminding her she had to deal with her mother at some point. She sighed and decided it was best to get it over with, rather than leave it for another day. Before she changed her mind, she sent her mother a text to ask if she was still awake. The response was almost immediate, the caller ID intrusively flashing in her face. Amelia took a deep breath before answering.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Oh, I’m good enough to speak to now, am I?” she said, always trying to guilt trip her.Remember her attitude is a reflection on her, not you. Her therapist continually pointed this out.
“As I told you the other day, I was working,” Amelia said calmly.
“Uh huh, but your shift finished hours ago.” Her mother left the accusation hanging in the air.
Amelia refused to dignify that with a response or the explanation that was expected, but not owed.
“Anyway,” her mother said, breaking the lingering silence. “Your father and I need to know what you’re doing for Christmas. You’ve barely been home to visit this year.”
“I’m working Christmas day, sorry,” she said. She was not sorry at all.
“I don’t know why they always schedule you to work. Isn’t it someone else’s turn?”
“I run my own schedule now, Mum,” Amelia reminded her, “and I’m choosing to work, so someone with young kids doesn’t have to.”
Her mother scoffed.
“Fine, your father and I will visit you in the new year then. If you’ll deign to see us.”
She focused on the pretty lights visible from the top of the Ferris wheel.
“Sure,” she sighed, resigned. “It’s been great to talk to you,” she said without a trace of the sarcasm she felt, “but I’ve had a long day, I need to get to bed.”
Her mother scoffed again.
“Bye, Mum, love you,” she said, hopefully.
“Goodbye, Amelia.” Her mother hung up.
She looked at the phone’s blank screen, grateful to have the call over with; but the sadness that always crept in after talking to her mother was blurring the edges of her vision. She’d had a terrible day. She wished she could talk to her mother about it, and have her mother tell her it would all be okay. But that was about as likely as her team winning the league this season after eight straight losses.
Amelia returned to the living room and tidied up the remnants of the takeaway. Some containers were still too warm for the fridge, so she put them on the kitchen counter. She dumped the dirty plates in the sink; she’d unload and reload the dishwasher another day. Today, she just needed rest.
She dragged her tired body up the stairs, unable to even bring herself to shower. Instead, she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed. Lying on her side, she caught sight of the framed picture of her and her sister that she kept on the bedside table. She wondered if she should have asked if her mother had heard from Clara, but she knew that would have been pointless. Reaching out, she ran her fingertips over the frame. Her sister had changed her number when she’d gone no-contact with their parents, and she’d not given Amelia her new number, either.