Lost and Found - 10

10

Sol drove for several minutes in complete silence; he hadn’t even given her a kiss on the cheek as a hello. Amelia was more than pensive, she was scared. Over the last few days the expectation had been there that she WOULD be with Sol, the question had only been when, now she didn’t know. Watching his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, he was almost oblivious to her as he cut through the streets.

Finally he pulled to the side of the road, in a quiet leafy residential street. Despite being early November it was a mild evening, and when he jumped out of the car, he didn’t look for a jacket, but started pacing the pavement as he waited for her to similarly disembark.  

Wringing her fingers together she paused before speaking to him, “so what’s happened Sol?”

When he looked at her there were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry Meals, this can’t happen...”

She gulped trying to move the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, “What’s happened?”

He paced a few more steps before lowering himself to a bench, she sat beside him, “You’re scaring me now Sol, what is it?”

Sighing he looked at her, “Helena was late back from the airport, I was going to pick her up...but I was trying to sort things out,”  Sol shook his head, “I got a call from the hospital, she’d collapsed in the arrival hall, an ambulance had been called.” Amelia knew he was fighting his emotions, “when I got there she was in surgery...I didn’t know what was happening, there was a lot of rushing around, her parents were there...she never sees them, I knew it was bad.”

He closed his eyes, throwing his head back, “then the doctor came out, I was stunned, he said she’d been pregnant, the collapse was because it was ectopic. It caused damage, they operated to try and stop the bleeding, apparently she was haemorrhaging uncontrollably. The only way to save her was to give her a hysterectomy.”

Amelia felt an unconscious gasp, suddenly feeling pity for this woman, “oh my God, how is she?”

He shook her head, “we never wanted kids, well it was never on our list of priorities, in fact...” he groaned, “well anyway, she’s lying in a hospital bed beside herself. She blames herself, hates herself.”

                “We always want what we can’t have!”

Nodding he ran his fingers through his hair, “so it seems. She’s asked me to go, to leave her, find someone less barren, those were her exact words. But I can’t leave her, not now.”

Whilst she could understand his predicament, she suddenly realised what the implications of this were, “so we’ve got to end this?”

                “She needs me, more than you do. I’m sorry, I really am.”

She wanted to be gracious, let this go with dignity and pride, but her own pain was clouding her judgement, “so you’ll give it up ‘us’ out of guilt and pity and sympathy for her?”

His hands were still in her hair when he turned to her, angry, “I do love her, and I do owe her some commitment, surely you can see that? In a few months we should have been married, and then this would have been my responsibility. As it is, she’s broken, ending this will now will finish her, you’re strong, you’ll find someone else!”

She stared at him, wide eyed, trying to stop her tears, her anger come gushing out, “I’ve not found anyone else in ten years, I’ve wanted you since I was six! What makes you think anything’s different now?”

He cupped her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek in an already familiar gesture, as he tried to smile, “you will Hot-Meal-ia, you’ll find someone who can be who you want them to be, you’ll see!”

Shaking her head, she backed away from him, “you’re dumping me on moral grounds Sol, that is as hard as it gets. You can’t stand there and tell me you don’t want to be with me, you tell me you choose not to be. I don’t want to sound selfish, this must be hard for Helena, but in a few weeks...”

Spotting the pain in her eyes Sol tried to reach for her, “she had a termination a few years back, it was mine...all that guilt, her sadness, she can’t cope without me Meal.” Her eyes widened and he could see her disbelief in her eyes, “We’ve brought forward the wedding, to the end of the month. It’s what we BOTH want.”

Staring at him incredulously she started to back away from him, as he reached out to stop her she snarled a hiss at him. “Don’t touch me, I’m going, and I don’t want to see you ever again.”

It wasn’t mature, and it definitely wasn’t her greatest moment, but it was done.

Thursday 20^th March 2008

Why wasn’t Easter a long holiday weekend here? Amelia asked herself as she shut down her computer and prepared to head out into the still wintry evening. Back home she knew that Li and her parents were going to Paris for a long cultural weekend, but here in New York, she had a busy schedule, and realistically she might have to work Saturday morning. Sighing she gathered her bag, laptop and coat, then made for the street. Apparently snow this late into the year was uncommon, but as she hit the ‘sidewalk’...it was like a different language, she rued the lack of sensible shoes, slushy snow instantly creeping over her business heels and chilling her feet.

It didn’t help as she looked around, that the World seemed to be wearing boots, all marching with intent and purpose to their homes, friends, families. It irked Amelia that after three months in this City she was still alone, still lonely.   She had an apartment in Greenwich Village, after spending a few weeks in a hotel courtesy of Clay, or rather the business. Of all the homes she’d looked at, this one, though not the greatest was the quirkiest, and the prettiest. It also wasn’t that far from her office.

She envisaged walking it in the summer or even the spring, a forty minute walk seemed like the perfect end to the day, and it was only a couple of miles along Broadway, she’d walked it at weekends as part of her investigations, and she could detour via SoHo full of nice shops and eateries. Normally she got the bus or the metro, but her ice cold feet caused her to stop and flag a cab, an extravagance she could afford these days, though the years of penny pinching seemed a hard habit to break.

The cab was warm, and as usual her accent precipitated a lengthy conversation with the native New Yorker as to the most famous English people he’d had in his cab, she didn’t have the heart to explain that Tom Jones was in fact Welsh, or that Ewan McGregor was Scottish. Some things were just too complicated to explain!

Her apartment was warm; another extravagance had been leaving the heating on all day. Dumping her wet shoes and coat in the hallway, she made for the bedroom, stripping out of her business suit,  she found her favourite fleece pyjamas and a vest top, then she removed her contact lenses, finding the glasses she rarely wore other than on waking up, and brushed her hair back into a pony tail.  Li had brought her bumble bee slippers for Christmas, and she slipped them on her feet and made for the kitchen.

Amelia missed living with Li, partly because the fridge was always full and if she was late home there was always something aromatic and delicious wafting through their home. As she examined the almost empty shelves, she almost groaned in pain, hungry and nothing more than eggs to appease her.

Back in London they’d had a drawer in the kitchen full of takeaway menus, each with a score out of ten scribed in the top left corner, as there was nothing her and Li liked more than judging the quality of any food they had delivered, they had even invented a form for it. Here in New York she had barely tried any, it seemed awkward ordering just for yourself. The saddest of the sad.

It was moments like this that she got upset, missing all that she had. Four months ago she had everything, now she frequently felt like she had nothing. That one life changing conversation with Sol... just the thought of his name still caused a pain that took her breath away, that evening had changed everything. Within two weeks she was here, in New York, leaving behind everything she knew and loved. She’d been a geek since a child and she was no different now, throwing herself into work rather than socialising, numbers were constant, predictable and invariable. Little else in life was. She was so lucky to have a world to disappear into like that. But it did limit the people and places she interacted with. So here she was hitting more bonuses that anyone thought possible, but lonely and sad out of the office.

Sighing she slammed the fridge closed, seemed that she’d have to risk looking sad and order in a take away, she’d just opened her laptop to search for some deals and reviews when there was a knock at the door.  She had a nosy neighbour two doors along and groaned at the thought of another conversation about fake workmen and the lack of elevators in the building, Mrs Carter had presented more petitions for her to sign in the three months she’d lived there than she’d seen in a life time.

Pulling back the door she plastered on a pleasant smile, then gasped at the sight of a very tired looking Clay on her doorstep.

                “Don’t you answer your cell?”

Suddenly very self conscious of her pyjama’s and particularly the bumble bees, she tried to shuffle backwards away from him, “it’s in my bag, must be on silent.” She reluctantly gestured him inside, “what’s so urgent?”

Fighting the urge to laugh, he followed her into the lounge, “we’ve been invited skiing, this weekend by Jeff Stirling. If we’re going straight from work tomorrow I needed you to know tonight!”

She stopped rifling in her bag for her phone to look up at him, “I don’t ski!” In fact the thought put the fear of God into her, she was clumsy at best, the thought of two pieces of highly polished wood veering at different angles on a slippery slope of snow was terrifying.

He shrugged, “not my favourite thing either, but Stirling is a huge contract, if he asks us to run naked down the street, then it’s in our best interests to do it.”

She shuddered, “ok, so skiing doesn’t sound THAT bad after all!”

Clay burst out laughing, “after seeing you manoeuvring in those...” he gestured to her feet, “whatever they are, then I’m looking forward to seeing your attempts on the slopes!” 

Laughing sarcastically she offered a beer, emerging from the kitchen with two when he accepted.

                “Nice pad!” he was studying the framed photos on her bookshelves when she offered the bottle.

                “I like it, I’m sure it’s not a patch on your penthouse...it’s the talk of the office you know!”

He laughed out loud, “It’s not as great as that I can assure you.”

She’d hardly seen Clay since her first few weeks in New York, he’d been courting some big clients on the West coast, rumour was he’d won them over, and she knew that it would influence her workload. When she looked up from her beer she could see he was watching her with a smile on his face.

               

                “What? Have I made yet another faux pas?”

It was now a legend of the office that she’d ‘been knocked up’ by Clay whilst staying in her hotel. Her innocent remark after sleeping in due to jetlag and brought the rest of the staff to their knees.

Chuckling Clay shook his head, “not at all, I’ve just not seen you in your glasses before. You look about fifteen!”

Shaking her head she tried to laugh and failed, “I don’t think anyone other than my best mate has seen me in my glasses for the last ten years! You’re a privileged man!”

Nodding he suddenly noticed the pile of take away menus on her coffee table; he raised an eyebrow, “are you telling me that a woman like yourself doesn’t cook?”

She shrugged, “I can run to a bacon sandwich? But other than that...”

Standing he marched into the kitchen and she could hear doors banging as they opened and closed.

                “Chicken fajitas!” he called, “all we’re missing it some guacamole!”

Appearing at the kitchen door she watched him familiarise himself with her kitchen, pulling staple ingredients out of the freezer, “make yourself at home why don’t you?”

Turning he grinned, “you Brits and your welcoming humour! You’ve got enough here for a meal, and seeing as I haven’t eaten too...”

Shaking her head she settled into a seat and watched him start to cook.

                “So how was the West coast?” she asked slugging at her beer. She wasn’t at all on edge at her new boss cooking in her kitchen, thought that surprised her in its own right. She’d got on well with Clay every time she’d met him, he was funny and good company, and there was nothing strange to see him there.

                “Yeah, it was a bit hectic. We’re thinking of setting up some sort of link office there. Hollywood is full of people earn a lot of money. None of them seem to know what to do with it!”

She nodded, “and they’re all so good looking?”

Slicing peppers adeptly he grinned, “I didn’t know where to look!” As she laughed he continued, “No seriously, it’s a whole different World out there.”

                “Where are you from?”

He paused to drink some beer, “my family like in Ohio, I don’t get out there much, I did Math and Economics at Dartmouth, then enrolled in a Masters programme in London. I struck lucky here a few big breaks when I was a in a junior position...and well,” he flourished the knife he was using in a rather elaborate manner, “the rest is history.”

As they ate, Amelia turned to him, “so what’s the deal with the skiing? I’ve got no gear...”

He nodded, “guessed as much, that’s why I wanted to forewarn you. We fly to the Catskills; Jeff Sterling has a helicopter that will whizz us up there, means we’ll get some evening time on the slopes. It’s a small exclusive resort, you’ll love it!”

She chewed the fajita as it suddenly started to unravel before adding, “I’m not too sure about that. But hey, I snowboarded once a few years back, so I can stay upright...can I rent gear anywhere?”

                “I’ll get Marilyn on the case tomorrow,” his PA was legendary in her organisational skills. “She’ll sort it in no time!”

Finishing his food, he stood from the small kitchen table, “I’m out in Stamford in the morning.” Sliding his arms into his thick winter overcoat he grinned, “I’ll be back to collect you for the flight, Marilyn will do the rest.”

She saw him to the door before he added in a rush, “oh and there’ll be formal dinner, every night...if you need...”

Holding up a hand she grinned, “I can manage to dress myself Clay, I can assure you!”

With that he was gone and Amelia contemplated a rather awkward weekend ahead.