The Affair

Chapter 25.3

Friday, August 12, 2022, 2:04pm

Amy holds Fallon's hand as she rushes through the buildings. The poor girl won't stop crying, drawing eyes at every turn.

Occasionally, she looks back to Fallon. Head down, tears falling like little diamonds and dotting a trail behind them. Amy frowns as she moves along, gently excusing herself as she pushes through the sluggish groups blocking her path.

The walk seems forever, but they do eventually reach the parking garage. The heat swallows them instantly and the noise of traffic quickly stifles Fallon's whimpers. Down the ramp they walk, coming upon Amy's black sedan mid-way.

The girl is like a doll, free to be moved and manipulated by a handler. Amy eases her inside the car, lifting her legs inside before fastening the seatbelt over her waist. When she comes around to the driver's side, Fallon is slumped over like a sack of leaves.

It's an awkward affair, but Amy manages to recline Fallon's seat back enough to fix it.

It's a short drive west from downtown, made shorter by the easy mid-day traffic. Amy tries several times to get her to talk. The first few attempts are sympathetic, gentle pleas for the girl to open up and lay it all out. The girl doesn't even stir. So, the following attempts become less understanding. Name-calling and blunt demands to speak come off easier but still fail to produce a result.

Amy sighs, disengaging, figuring she'd give it another shot later. Somewhere along the way Fallon stops crying, but her eyes never once leave the window. Even as Amy pulls into the parking lot, Fallon doesn't say a word.

Amy finds a spot near the front and shifts the car in park. The engine cuts, leaving the air still. She leans back in her seat, soaking in the silence as if it were healing waters. Chaos awaits her—she's sure of that.

The seatbelt clicks before the strap tethers into the slot. Then Amy reaches over to unbuckle Fallon's.

"What're you doing..." Fallon mutters.

Amy shoulders her purse, then pushes out the car door with her knee.

"I'm walking you to your apartment. What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't want you to walk me..."

"Well, too bad," Amy returns, one foot already out the car. "We're going to your apartment, then we're gonna talk—"

"I don't want you to walk me! I don't want to talk to you!"

"Fallon. Please don't be like this," she groans.

The tears kick up as the poor girl rummages through her backpack. Metal clinks and jiggles as she pulls out a keyring on a pink lanyard. She steps out in such a rush that her heel clips the bottom frame, sending her toppling onto the concrete outside. Little items scatter as her backpack hits the ground, and the girl cries a pitiful noise in the calamity.

"Oh God, Fallon, hold on!"

She's out and around the car in seconds. Fallon is on her butt, reaching for the fallen objects, visibly frustrated as she tosses them back in her bag. There's a small scrap on her knee. Nothing alarming, just a red patch of shaved skin.

Amy grabs Fallon's arm. The reaction is feral.

"Don't touch me!" the girl screams, recoiling from the helping hands. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alooone!"

"God, chill the fuck out! I'm trying to help you!"

Fallon snatches her backpack and stands, awkwardly roping the straps over her shoulders. She stands there a moment, stiff, red-faced, and drawing strained, heaving breaths.