Cutting Loose

by Charity Hillis

  Her boss smiled again. “I know that, and you know that, but, well, I’ve heard some rumbling at the water cooler. A few of the boys are worried that you’ll give up on your responsibilities when you decided to start a family.”

  Gathering her wits, Amy straightened her shoulders. “My personal life has nothing to do with my ability to do my job,” she reiterated, forcing a smile, “but I appreciate the warning.”

  He nodded to her in dismissal, and, keeping the smile plastered on her face, Amy retreated to her tiny office and shut the door. Sagging against it, she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and stared at the blank walls surrounding her. She hadn’t been in the office long enough to make the space hers, other than hanging her diploma in its mahogany frame on the far wall. Since she was just the newest junior partner, the space didn’t rank a window, but at least it offered more privacy than a cubicle. Turning the lock, Amy sank down to the floor with her back pressed against the door, fighting off the flood of frightened tears that was bubbling just under the surface. I worked too hard to lose this now, she thought, wiping the wetness off her cheeks.

  As she sat there stewing, her fear began to give way to righteous anger as she replayed the conversation with Fitz in her mind. “Did he seriously say that he’s worried about my work because of my lady parts?” She shook her head in disgust. She had half a mind to go back to his office and remind him that sexual discrimination was illegal, and she tried to figure out exactly what to say that would get him off her case.

  Her phone buzzed in her purse across the room, pulling Amy out of her tangled thoughts. Brushing off her skirt as she stood, she crossed the room in two quick strides and reached for her phone. “Yes?”

  “Ames?” Sharlene’s voice was soft, like she was far away.

  Amy perched on the edge of her desk. “What’s wrong?” Her friend sniffed, and Amy’s heart clenched. “Are you okay?”

  “Can you come home? I’m not—I’m not feeling well.”

  Amy glanced at her closed door. “It’s really not a good time—“

  “Amy, please.” Sharlene’s words cut her off, and Amy squeezed her eyes shut, frozen with indecision. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Sharlene added softly.

  “Right. Okay.” Amy took a deep breath. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  After she hung up, she glanced around the office. She knew leaving in the middle of the day would land her on Fitz’s shit list, and after the lectured he’d just given her, she realized she didn’t have much leeway. Amy paused. Am I ready to give this up? A few months ago, she would have laughed at that idea, but a few months ago, she hadn’t been back in touch with Sharlene. I wouldn’t have given this up for anything before, she thought as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, but before, I didn’t have anyone worth caring about in my life. She headed toward the elevator, ignoring the incredulous stares of her coworkers as she rushed past.

  When she got back to her apartment, everything was still. “Sharlene?” She called softly from the door, her eyes scanning the space. Nobody answered, and the knot of fear that had been in Amy’s stomach since her friend called moved up into her throat. Instinct pulled her to the bathroom, but when she got there, she hesitated outside the closed door before knocking gently.

  “Sharlene, sweetie, are you in there?”

  A soft sob answered her, and Amy cautiously pushed open the bathroom door, unsure of what she would find.

  Sharlene was curled up on the floor, her legs drawn up to her chest, and Amy’s eyes swept over her quickly, checking for injury. Everything seemed okay, but Amy was sure her friend wouldn’t have summoned her home over nothing. “Are you okay, Shar?”

  Sharlene shook her head, tears running down her face. “There was a lot of blood,” she began. “So much blood.”

  “If you’re bleeding, we need to get you to the E.R. Maybe you need stitches. I’ll drive,” Amy said, her brain kicking into planning mode and taking over, but Sharlene held up her hand.

  “I don’t need stitches, Ames.” She opened her fingers, and Amy stared at the pregnancy test in her friend’s hand, uncomprehending.

  Finally, it clicked. “You’re pregnant?” She bent down to hug Sharlene and pull her up off the floor, but Sharlene’s sob stopped her.

  “I was.”

  Amy sank down to the floor beside her friend. “I don’t—what—” she swallowed. “What happened?”

  Sharlene dropped her head back onto her knees and let out a muffled sob. “We just found out before Miah left this week. I’d been dying to tell you, but—” she broke off before finishing quietly, “but we wanted to wait until it was more of a sure thing.” Her tears started falling harder, and Amy leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Sharlene. She slumped against Amy’s shoulder crying, and Amy tried to think of something to say.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally offered, holding Sharlene close to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sharlene cried harder against her chest, and Amy wasn’t sure how long they sat on the bathroom floor together, but she was willing to sit there for a year if it would take away some of Sharlene’s misery. Part of her wanted to probe, to ask questions about how far along Sharlene had been, or to find out what made her think she was having a miscarriage in the first place, but Amy knew questions wouldn’t help her friend. So she held her and they cried together until the sky outside the apartment had shifted to purple twilight. Finally, Sharlene sagged against Amy, her tears spent, and Amy glanced at her phone.

  “Damn,” she said softly. “It’s too late to take you to my doctor tonight.” She looked at Sharlene’s tear-stained face. “Unless you think we should go to the emergency room?”

  Sharlene shook her head. “Tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Right now, I just want to sleep.”

  “Did you—” Amy hesitated. “Did you call Jeremiah?”

  Sharlene’s face pinched with pain. “I tried. Before you got home. But it kept going to voicemail.”

  Amy got to her feet and reached down to help Sharlene up. “Do you want to talk to him tonight?”

  Sharlene hesitated. “I don’t know,” she finally said, her voice hollow. “What good will it do?”

  Amy nodded without saying anything, because she had no idea what to say. “Whatever you need,” she finally offered, “I want to help.”

  Sharlene gave her a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered before moving out of the bathroom, shuffling to the sofa like a zombie.

  “Why don’t you sleep in my room?” Amy offered, desperate to do something.

  Sharlene didn’t say anything, but she changed course and headed toward the bedroom. At the door, she paused. “I’m…I’m glad I’m here,” she finally said. “With you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The gig went better than Sean had hoped, but he tried to fight down a wave of disappointment when he didn’t spot Amy in the crowd afterwards. Maybe Sharlene forgot to tell her, he mused as he took a swallow of the free beer the manager presented him with once his set was over.

  Eric came over and clapped him on the back. “Man, that was great. I almost forgot how good you are!”

  Sean shrugged. “Whatever. Thanks for getting me the audition.”

  “Not a problem. If you work out, it’ll be brownie points for me, too.” Eric paused, his eyes taking in the crowd that still lingered in the club. “You going home with anyone tonight?”

  Sean lifted an eyebrow suggestively. “Only if you’ll have me.”

  Eric chuckled. “In your dreams, boy. But yeah, mi couch is su couch.”

  “Thanks,” Sean said, setting his guitar case at his feet and pulling himself up on a bar stool. “How much longer are you here?”

  “Two. But it usually goes pretty fast.”

  Sean nodded, taking another swig of beer. “No worries. I’ll stay out of the way.”

  Maybe it was the buzz from the music, or maybe it was the way Amy kept circling through his mind, but Sean was feeli
ng a pleasant sort of melancholy the longer he sat at the bar. This used to be when I’d write my best stuff, he realized as he finished his beer. The urge to start writing music again had been growing ever since he’d met Amy, and Sean was starting to wonder if it might be time. You don’t have to tell anyone, he reasoned with himself. No one needs to risk hearing your lyrics. Although the reasonable voice in the back of his mind told him that Amy wasn’t anything like Joy, that his songs weren’t necessarily the reason she broke all those years ago, Sean ignored the thought.

  He paused for a moment, but then he leaned over the counter and grabbed a ballpoint pen that was sitting beside the register. Glancing around like he was doing something illegal, he pressed the “print” button on the card machine and tore off a length of credit card paper. Sean spread his hand over the curl of paper, trying to flatten it, and then he paused. His fingers were itching to close around the pen and get started, but he had the vague sense that there’d be no going back if he broke his vow of silence.

  Deliberately, he scrawled the phrase “Vow of Silence” across the top of the paper, and just like that, words began to pour out of him.

  He was tinkering with the third verse by the time Eric tapped him on the shoulder. Sean looked up, startled, and realized that they were the last people in The Haven.

  “Let’s go, man. I’m ready for a drink.”

  Sean laughed and set the pen down. “Not one of the perks of the job?”

  Eric shook his head and yawned. “Not here. Some clubs will let you, but I’d actually rather drink at home. Nobody there cares if I’m not wearing any pants.”

  Sean shook his head as he slid off the stool. “I care. No pants, no service.”

  Eric spotted the paper on the bar and reached for it. “What were you working on?”

  Sean’s fingers closed around the half-finished song protectively. “Oh, nothing. Just scribbling,” he said casually, crumpling it up. But when Eric wasn’t looking, Sean tucked the ball of paper into his pocket, and he picked up his guitar with a secret smile as he followed Eric out into the night.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  While Sharlene slept, Amy called her doctor’s emergency line and scheduled an appointment first thing the next morning. Then she curled up on the sofa and spent a sleepless night surfing the Internet, trying to find information on miscarriage that might help Sharlene. She was startled to find the statistic, repeated again and again, that said a quarter of all pregnancies would end the way Sharlene’s had. Even though she’d never given much thought to the whole idea of kids before, she found herself thinking about the impossible heartache that seemed to go with getting pregnant. What a risk, she thought, shaking her head sadly.

  Amy didn’t usually drive unless she was leaving the city, but one look at Sharlene’s drawn, pale face the next morning prompted her to take advantage of the valet services offered by the doorman, and her black BMW was waiting at the curb when she and Sharlene got downstairs. No one had answered when Amy tried calling her office so she’d just left a message citing a “family emergency” as the reason for her absence.

  Sharlene spoke softly as soon as Amy hung up. “Thank you,” she offered, staring out the window at the busy street. “I know you have things to do.”

  Even though it made Amy nervous not to have both hands on the wheel, she reached over and gave Sharlene’s hand a quick squeeze. “Nothing is more important that you right now.” Maneuvering the car into traffic, she glanced at Sharlene. “Did you get ahold of Jeremiah yet?”

  The woman nodded. “He said he’s coming home today, and that he’d drive down to the city to get me first thing tomorrow.”

  Amy nodded. “That’s probably a good thing. Not,” she floundered, “that I don’t want you to stay. I do. It’s just—”

  “I know. I’m not really good company right now.”

  “It isn’t that,” Amy protested. “I just—I don’t know what you need.”

  Sharlene shrugged slightly, her eyes sad. “Time, maybe. I don’t know.”

  ***

  When Sharlene came back into the waiting room, Amy set her phone down immediately. She started to ask a question, but Sharlene’s fragile expression stopped her, and Amy settled for wrapping her arms around her friend in a tight hug. When they got back to her apartment, she offered, “I’d be happy to drive halfway tomorrow, to save Jeremiah the whole trip and get you home sooner, if you like.”

  Sharlene almost looked like she was going to say no, but then she nodded. “I’d appreciate that,” she finally said. She paused awkwardly. “I’m sorry the visit’s ruined.”

  Amy shook her head and forced a cheery tone. “Not ruined. Anything you want to do before you go home, just say the word. If you want to sleep, if you want to go out, whatever you need, I’m your girl.”

  Sharlene smiled slightly. “Actually, I was supposed to make sure you got to The Haven tonight.”

  Amy stared at her. “The what?”

  Sharlene shrugged apologetically. “It’s a bar. Sean’s playing there tonight, and I’d offered to get you down there so the two of you could…talk.” She shook her head. “It seems kind of stupid, now, how much energy I was willing to put into playing Cupid.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “I’d forgotten he was in town,” she admitted.

  “You knew?”

  “We…bumped into each other the other day.”

  Sharlene studied her face. “Do you want to go to his gig tonight?”

  “I’d rather focus on you.”

  Sharlene looked away. “I don’t know what good that’s going to do, Ames. Besides, I promised Sean I’d get you to the bar.”

  Amy forced a laugh. “He’s not my priority tonight. You are.”

  “I got the impression that there might have been some sparks between you two at the wedding.”

  Amy tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a self-conscious snort. “You might say that. We almost hooked up.”

  Sharlene grinned. “I knew you’d go for him! Wait, almost?”

  “Yeah.” A surge of embarrassment shot through Amy. “Your friends stopped it.”

  Sharlene drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”

  Shaking her head, Amy tried to back-peddle. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes it does. What happened?”

  With a sigh, Amy told her about the fire alarm and the bet. Sharlene’s mouth dropped open, but when Amy was finished, Sharlene started to laugh. The sound was so unexpected in that moment that, after a beat, Amy started to giggle, too, and pretty soon, they were both clutching each other and laughing.

  “Now you definitely have to go see him play; can’t leave something that hot hanging!”

  Amy shook her head. “I don’t really know what the point would be. It’s not like he and I could have anything more than a fling.”

  “Why not?”

  Amy gestured around her vaguely. “Come on, Shar. Our lives couldn’t be more different; do you really think a flirty musician would be happy with me for long?”

  Sharlene frowned. “You sell yourself short. Why not give Sean a chance to make that decision?”

  “It seemed pretty clear he was just looking for a little fun, and that seemed okay by me.”

  Sharlene studied her intently. “Seemed? But not anymore?”

  Wordlessly, Amy shook her head. How could she tell her friend that after seeing her wedding, she’d started secretly nurturing the wild hope that maybe someday she’d find someone she could try to build a life with, someone who would hold her the way Jeremiah held Sharlene? It seemed cruel to express the twinge of jealousy she felt toward her friend, especially right after the miscarriage.

  Sharlene didn’t press. “I don’t know what Sean’s looking for,” she finally said, “but I know you, Amy Savoy. If there’s something you want badly enough, you’ve got to make it happen.”

  Amy tried to laugh. “I’ve made my career happen. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I don’t kn
ow, is it?”

  Amy sighed. “It’ll have to be.”

  To her surprise, Sharlene dropped it. “If you change your mind, I think Sean’s performing all weekend.”

  “Let’s just worry about us tonight. Want to order take out, or is there something else you’d rather do?”

  Sharlene smiled faintly. “I can’t leave New York without more pizza, I guess.”

  Amy bowed. “Your wish is my command.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hanging out with Eric was more fun than Sean remembered, and they didn’t make it to bed until after the sun had risen. When Sean woke up a few hours later, he could still hear Eric snoring from the bedroom down the hall.

  Padding softly into the bathroom, Sean stepped into the shower. He usually liked to shower right after a gig, to wash the smoke and sweat away before trying to sleep, but last night he’d been too distracted drinking and laughing with Eric. Tipping his head back, he shut his eyes and turned on the spray, relishing the feeling of the water against his skin. He conjured up an image of Amy standing in the shower behind him, running her nails gently along his back, and he shuddered in delight. He wasn’t sure why his mind kept returning to her; usually, his flings lasted a night or two, a week at most, and then everyone moved on. None of the women he’d been with had ever complained, so he figured the no strings arrangement worked as well for them as it did for him.

  But Amy popped into his head whenever he was distracted, and he’d almost gotten used to seeing her face in his mind for the past few weeks. I hope she makes it to the show tonight, he thought as he grabbed a towel and tied it around his waist, stepping onto the slick tile floor. Would it be desperate to swing by her place again and make sure she knows about the gig?

  He shook his head, swiping his hand across the steamy mirror. “Yes,” he told himself firmly. “She knows; Shar wouldn’t forget to tell her.” He heard his words, and he winced. What am I, twelve? Since when have I ever needed someone else to set me up?