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Three. American Errands.
She was on her own. She couldn't afford friends or anybody's company. Be it California or Russia, it was her and her mother against the world. It had always been like that—mother and daughter. It never seemed like an issue to her. Being independent, she enjoyed it as a kid. But time flew by, and independence was mistaken for loneliness.
She would always look forward to getting things done with her mother instead of letting the murmurs of her bothersome thoughts get under her skin—the same bothersome thoughts that reached out to her every night before she slept.
Loneliness became a problem. One she could handle, but it caused her a silent pain she couldn't talk to anybody about.
She hated being alone. She hated being with the shadows of the night, with the eerie silence in the mornings.
Being alone meant having the world to herself—the emptiness and void, the dreadful silence of a kind that could burst your eardrums. This world is only enjoyable when you have people to live it with. You don't just fill the silence with the chirping of the birds.
Being alone meant having to think, reminisce, or plan—all things Amelia didn't like to do.
Jealousy became a problem. She couldn't handle looking at kids her age who lived their lives how they wanted to, not without her eyes burning with tears.
They all belonged to big groups. They all kissed, got drunk, smoked, and loved. They all had unique experiences they could tell each other about through the phone, while Amelia's days became monotone, and the only ones she could talk to were herself, her mother, and the moon.
It made her wonder when it would be her turn.
Her turn to kiss, get drunk, smoke, love. Her turn to talk about her memories all night long. Her turn for people to get jealous of her. Her turn to belong.
When the kid introduced himself as Dustin and Steve Harrington's coworker as Robin, it felt like a boost of confidence—a gust of wind that indicated a fresh start. Well, she didn't want to have extremely high hopes in case she got disappointed in the end, but she could say she wished for a great friendship with them.
Maybe she could create those unique experiences with them. Maybe she could belong with them.
And maybe with Steve, too. But he had been an asshole (one of the hot ones, unfortunately). An attractive guy with nothing but a fast-moving mouth and mean words spilling out of it. And she knew better than to put up with that.
It felt bittersweet. The way he acted was the opposite of yesterday—so quick to judge and say the first thing that came to his mind. But Amelia still felt she could do something to rewind the situation and start over with him. Just maybe.
