Lonely People

I Want You

The tour felt longer than life, but it was actually only a few months. I began to adjust to the tour life just as we were thrust back into our everyday lives. We were back home, in England, in our own houses and own beds. For the first time in months, I had my own bedroom.

Janice refused to speak to Molly or me for quite some time. She was pissed, as she should be, and went to stay with her mother. That left Molly and me all alone in the flat together. It was the first time we were alone since that night.

I was highly considering going to stay with Paul, but I decided to stand my ground. This couldn't last forever. Molly and I couldn't be at odds forever, I wasn't sure if I would be able to survive it if we did. Eventually, we would have to face each other. That moment came sooner rather than later.

"Melly?"

I glanced at. Molly had silently opened my bedroom door and was leaning in the doorframe. She looked nervous but, then again, so was I. In her hands she held two plastic cups and a cheap bottle of whiskey.

"'Ello, Mols," I smiled.

She returned the gesture, "Thought we could use a drink, you know."

"Yeah. Come on, open bed."

I patted the mattress in front of me. She fell down on it just like she had done so many times before. This time felt different. Before she had always come into my room like it was her own, now it seemed as if she felt out of place. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

She handed me one of the cups and began to pour. When we both had our drinks, we didn't hesitate in slamming them back. We had both consumed two cups before we finally got up the nerve to speak.

"Janice seems right angry," I commented.

Molly nodded, "She has a right. It's not her fault."

"It's not yours either."

The two of us connected eyes. In her eyes, I could see a reflection of myself. She held the same fear, the same guilt, and the same want for something just out of reach.

"I can't live like this," Molly sighed, "You're my best mate, Amelia, I don't want to lose you."

I frowned, "I don't want to lose you either."

"What do we do?"

I was silent. We gazed at each other, both of our minds running a thousand miles per hour. Only one option came to mind.

"We could forget it happened," I suggested.

Both of us did our best to avoid saying exactly what happened. By saying it, we would make it more real. I had already made it real by telling Paul, but telling Molly would make it seem even worse. Everything would become steely, we couldn't deny it anymore. The world would cave in even more than it already was.

"We can try," Molly replied, "I don't-I don't know if that's the kind of thing you can just ignore."

I shrugged, "I don't think there's much else we can do."

Molly poured us each another drink. I slowly swallowed, allowing the warmth of the whiskey to leak through my body. It warmed me from the inside out and blurred my senses. After just three cups, I was already feeling a bit cloudy. I was on the path to getting completely hammered and there was no end in sight.

"We'll pretend it never happened. We'll go back to the good old days before this happened," Molly muttered.

I glanced at her. When her eyes connected with mine, I was transported to a different world. A world without hate, without anger, without stigmas or bias. It was a world where the two of us could have a future. I saw us, smiling and standing with our arms around each other in front of a home in France. We were happy. In that picture, a photograph taken from a moment that could never exist, I was the happiest I had ever been.